Daywards Read online

  ‘They didn’t have a chance. Only a couple of the outlying domes survived, and a couple of their big flyers which they managed to get into the air. The rest are buried.’

  ‘Shi.’

  A hollowness opened up inside Dara. She’d done it, she knew. Even if Eyna didn’t believe it.

  ‘Drake didn’t make it, either,’ Eyna added.

  ‘I thought Drake was here with us.’

  ‘He was. He was standing right beside you when the earthquake struck. Nobody’s sure what happened to him. When they took him back he was still alive, but … empty. Just like Jaran. Most of them think he must have hurt his head when he fell.’

  A long silence followed Eyna’s words.

  ‘Shi, Eyna. What did I do?’

  ‘The same thing I did to Jaran.’

  In the distance, above the rubble of the Darkedge, a couple of black shapes – birds of some kind – circled listlessly in the already warming air, exploring the suddenly changed landscape below.

  ‘Here.’ Eyna passed across a bowl of something familiar.

  Dara threw her a disbelieving look. ‘Prosup? Are you kidding me? I thought I’d never have to eat that stuff again.’

  ‘It was the easiest and simplest thing. And it’s good for you. Besides, I don’t think it’s that bad.’

  ‘Wait until you’ve eaten nothing else for three weeks,’ Dara replied. But she accepted the bowl gratefully, slurping at the bland mush and suddenly very aware of how hungry she was.

  ‘What happened to Uncle Xani?’

  ‘He went back with them. Wanted to keep an eye on Ma.’

  ‘If he …’

  ‘Dara, calm down!’ Eyna’s voice took on an edge. ‘You need to let go of everything. Uncle Xani is simply trying to carry on from where Da Janil left off. If you stop and listen for a while, then you’ll understand.’

  ‘So I can become one of them? Just like you?’

  ‘No, Dara.’ Eyna hesitated. ‘I’m not one of them. But I’m not the person I was back home, either. Neither are you. Neither are any of us. We have a bigger purpose now. Da Janil knew that. He spent his entire life waiting for you and me and Jaran to come along. He knew we were the only hope.’

  ‘For who?’

  ‘For everyone, Dara. There are almost five million people still living in New London. None of them can leave; they’re all the same as Da Janil and Da Lari. But they need to. They’ve got less than ten years before everything in their world stops. Ten years until their skyfall.’

  ‘That’s not our problem.’

  ‘Don’t be a shi. Of course it is. Da Janil spent his life trying to find out what makes us different from them. And he nearly succeeded. They’re so close, Dara. But they need us. They need our blood, and our bone marrow, and our spinal fluid, and about a thousand other things, too. That’s why they’re so desperate to bring us in. That’s why Drake acted the way he did. Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘They should have just asked us.’

  ‘They should have. And Da Janil should have explained it to everyone, years ago. But he didn’t, Dara, and that’s not their fault. And now we have it in us – literally inside us – to save them. And anyway, we need them just as much as they need us.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Think about it, Dara. There aren’t enough of us left. You and I are the only girls anywhere near reproductive age. Jaran was the only male. The littlies are still years away, and most of us are cousins or brothers and sisters, anyway. Uncle Xani can explain it better than me, but unless a species spreads itself out, then it dies. Just like the skycities did.’

  Dara sat silently, turning her cousin’s words over in her head, until Eyna spoke again.

  ‘Don’t judge them, Dara. That’s all. Not until you’ve listened to them. Just let them explain properly.’

  Below her, the pulse of earthwarmth was different somehow. No longer insistent and pounding, but just a gentle undercurrent. Dara closed her eyes, pulled a little of it through her, relishing the soft flow of it, and reached out.

  Life was everywhere, in every direction. Twitching, chirping, soaring, crawling sparks of life, all across the sunwarming landscape and in the towering sky. And over beside the remains of the Darkedge, the cold hollowness of the New Londoners’ camp felt more foreign than ever. It would be nice to get rid of it, she thought. To feel people there – real people walking the earth, just as Eyna’s spark beside her was a living, vibrant energy.

  But there was only one way for that to happen.

  Dara pulled back into herself, and climbed slowly to her feet.

  ‘Come on. We’d better get moving,’ she said to Eyna.

  And the two girls set out towards the distant white campsite.

  The final flyer crouched, hunched and tiny against the now-empty desert. It was one of the big ones, an intercit model, but still, Dara thought, looking at its scarred and battered hull, without the surrounding tent clusters and walkways it looked utterly lost and insignificant.

  Nightwards, the sun was already below the horizon, and overhead the stars were peppering the deepening blue. Somewhere in the distance, in the midst of the rubble of the Darkedge, a nightbird hooted. Otherwise, the evening was silent.

  ‘Pretty, ‘ent it, Dara girl?’

  As usual, she hadn’t heard Ma Saria approach. The old woman could still move like a nightspirit when she wanted to.

  ‘Jaman, Ma. I’m gonna miss it.’

  ‘You’ll see it again. This land’s as much a part of you as you are of it now.’ The certainty in the old woman’s words was reassuring.

  ‘You sure I can’t talk you in to coming?’

  ‘Nah, girl.’ Ma Saria shook her head. ‘I’ve said my goodbyes. I’m goin’ home.’ She nodded vaguely in the direction of the fallen Darkedge. ‘Somewhere over there there’s a valley I’d like to see again, one last time.’

  ‘But I need you.’

  ‘No, Dara girl, you don’t. You need to move on with your cousin and your uncles and aunties. Start a new world. You don’t need some old baggage like me holding you back.’

  The com-band around Dara’s left wrist chimed. Raj’s voice, tinny and amplified, echoed from it.

  ‘Five minutes, Dara. The pilot’s getting antsy about the light.’

  Dara simply waved her response. She knew they’d be watching.

  ‘Looks like this is it, then, Dara girl. You be good, eh? Don’t forget to reach.’

  ‘I …’ Dara tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come. There was so much she wanted to say.

  Ma Saria smiled. ‘Don’ worry about it, child. I know.’ The old woman reached out and rested warm fingers against the side of Dara’s neck, and a shiver of energy coursed between them.

  I’m always in here, Dara. Just like your brother, and your Da. Now, go.

  Dara clung to Ma Saria in one last, fierce embrace, imprinting the feel of Ma’s body against her own, before releasing her abruptly and fleeing to the waiting flyer. As soon as she was through the hatch, it slid shut behind her, and a deep hum filled the air as the magnetic resonators started to spool up.

  Saria watched, a faint smile on her lips, as the enormous piece of tech rose ponderously into the air, the sand beneath it stirring from the concussive pressure of the engines. It wheeled carefully, and then began accelerating away nightwards and upwards, its sound a rising scream until it faded into the night.

  Somewhere in the desert a nightbird cackled. A dog howled. A hopper scuffled.

  It took the old woman several minutes to find them, low on the daywards horizon, just above the broken line of the Darkedge rubble. Three tiny vaultlights, arranged in a long triangle, glittering against the darkness.

  Smiling sadly, Saria set out towards them.

  Towards home.

  When I first conceived the idea for The Darklands Trilogy, in August 1999, I thought it would take me perhaps three or four years to complete the whole series.

  Yeah, right.

  Now, just a litt
le over a decade later, as I’m putting the finishing touches on the final manuscript of Daywards, I can’t help but reflect upon the enormous number of people who have, in one way or another, contributed to this project.

  First and foremost, I must thank the wonderful University of Queensland Press – the publisher who gave me my start in writing, who had the faith in me to commission this series, and then the patience to wait the interminable years that it’s taken me to complete it. I would like to pay special tribute to two women – Mrs Leonie Tyle, the former children’s publisher at UQP, who steered me through the creation and publication of the first two books, Nightpeople and Skyfall. The latter of these was a particularly difficult child, and Leonie’s editorial input and expertise was invaluable throughout. Secondly, Kristina Schulz, who took the reins at UQP when Leonie moved on and who has filled some very big shoes with extraordinary professionalism. Even aside from her fantastic editorial work on this book, her unflappable calm as deadline after deadline went whizzing past has given me the chance to complete and polish Daywards to the highest possible standard and I cannot thank her enough for this support. In addition at UQP, I must thank managing director Greg Bain, and publisher Madonna Duffy, both of whom have long been stalwart supporters of my writing career, and of this trilogy in particular.

  Greg Bridges, an extraordinary artist, has created three lovely covers for this series, and I thank him for his work and the generosity of setting his time aside for this project.

  Stella Danalis, who did all the design work on the trilogy, has produced three of the most lovely looking books I’ve ever seen. I’d like to thank her for her time and talent.

  Numerous people have offered comments and suggestions on the various drafts of the various books in this trilogy and I hesitate to attempt to name them all, lest I miss some. I would, however, make special mention of my parents, Marg and Dave, who continue to offer their input in the most loving manner.

  I would also make mention of my colleagues in the Creative Writing Department of the Faculty of Arts at the University of Canberra, for their ongoing collegiality and support.

  Over the last few years, and especially during the wait for this final book to be complete, I’ve received letters and emails from readers all across the country, expressing their enjoyment of the trilogy, and (sometimes in very strident terms) their anticipation of this concluding chapter. I’d like to thank them all for their patience and their support. It’s difficult to explain how important it is for a writer to know that there are real people out there who are enjoying their work.

  My friends in the Australian writing community – I’m not going to name you all, but you know who you are – thanks for being a big support during this seemingly endless project.

  Finally, to my family – Imogen and Toby – without whose love and support I couldn’t even begin to conceive of these stories. Thanks.

  First published 2010 by University of Queensland Press

  PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia

  www.uqp.com.au

  © Anthony Eaton

  This book is copyright. Except for private study, research, criticism or reviews, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any foram or by any means without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

  Typeset by Peripheral Vision

  Cataloguing in Publication Data

  National Library of Australia

  Eaton, Anthony

  Daywards

  For young adults.

  I. Title.

  A823.4

  ISBN 978 0 7022 3655 6 (pbk)

  ISBN 978 0 7022 3791 1 (pdf)

  ISBN 978 0 7022 4507 7 (epub)

  ISBN 978 0 7022 4505 3 (kindle)