Nightpeople Read online

  That, at least, would be knowledge, some sort of power And knowing that there was no way Dariand would ever let her do what she was about to only added to the appeal of the idea.

  Smiling to herself, Saria crept towards Olympic.

  The midden was outside the fenceline of the town. Its festering sweetness drifted to Saria as she skirted around the barrier of thorny branches.

  At first she’d thought to simply find a gap in the fence and wriggle through, but when she came close she found the fence to be a solid tangle of hard, dry branches, spiked with thorns the size of a man’s finger and completely impenetrable.

  Instead, she’d started a circumnavigation of the town, keeping the fence on her left and moving slowly lest she be noticed.

  There seemed little danger of that, though. It appeared that the people of Olympic didn’t venture beyond the perimeter of the town unless they had to. And the fence also served to effectively hide her from the view of those inside. Fleetingly, she wondered how Dariand had been able to get into the town unnoticed – she couldn’t imagine anybody being able to push through that fence – but she quickly relegated thoughts of him to the back of her mind.

  From time to time voices drifted out from the other side of the barrier, and each time she froze, listening. Nobody said anything of consequence, but it was interesting all the same, listening to other voices – new voices – each with a different timbre and tone, and trying to imagine the faces that might go with them.

  She didn’t come across anything that she might be able to reach into, and was getting close to giving up when she smelled the midden. It was the smell of the dung heap outside Ma Lee’s hut back in the valley, only more concentrated. She followed her nose away from the fenceline, and as she crested a small rise a little way from the town, she found it.

  The small hollow was half filled with waste, a stinking stew of everything the townspeople needed to dispose of: food scraps, old bones and the remains of butchered carcases. The smell burned at the back of her nose and throat, making her stomach cramp with nausea, and Saria turned away, intending to head back towards the bushes.

  As she started away from the waste pit, a small movement caught her eye.

  A little distance off, crouched beside a pile of rubbish at the very edge of the midden, a dog regarded her balefully, its dark eyes glittering with distrust. Its yellow coat was patchy and dust-stained, and Saria could see clearly the bones of its rib cage beneath its skin. In its jaws it clutched an old, sun-bleached bone from some long-dead creature, and at the sight of Saria it had frozen, ears flattened across the back of its head, tail held low between its haunches.

  Involuntarily, Saria took a half-step backwards, remembering too well the angry burning that had seared across her mind when she had tried to reach into the wild dogs in the valley. But then she stopped. There was something different about this animal. Something set it apart from the fierce creatures which roamed the nightwards ridge of the valley, or even from the lizards and rock-hoppers that she’d always reached into. This dog had already been beaten, she realised. Everything about it spoke of a creature defeated. The timid, crouching stance and the darting wariness behind its eyes suggested that, unlike the wild animals of the valley, this dog had no guards, no wall of independence about it.

  Hesitantly, Saria crouched low to the sand and let the earthwarmth flow up into her before apprehensively reaching out.

  She hadn’t really expected to find it. Not from this distance, and certainly not so easily. But there it was. As her mind touched the dog’s, she felt the animal cringe away from her. It was frightened but at the same time unable to turn and flee as it so strongly wanted to, held in place by something she couldn’t identify.

  Slowly, still expecting it to resist, Saria let herself drop deeper into the dog’s mind, seeking out its senses, trying to explore the land around them as the dog knew it.

  But the dog was starving and its hunger dominated everything. To the dog, the midden was not waste but food. Dried-out scraps like this bone were food to fill the belly and take away the aching gnaw of hunger for a while. The midden filled the dog’s awareness, a mass of heat and colour. Compared with it, the town itself was little more than a pale echo in the back of its mind.

  Softly, ghosting her mind against that of the starving animal, Saria tried to turn its attention away from the midden, to concentrate it on Olympic itself. But it was no use; the hunger was too powerful to overcome. Even Saria herself crouching on the sand, was nothing more in the dog’s perception than a vague shadow, noticed only because she might try and take away its food.

  Saria was now deep in the dog’s mind, immersed so completely in the misery of the animal’s hunger that she found her own awareness slipping away. The hunger was all-encompassing. With an effort of will, Saria slid upwards again, backing off and slowly returning to her own senses. Gradually, she became aware of things through her own mind once more – the smell of the midden, the glare of sunlight off the sand – until finally she was hovering again, feeling the gentle tingle of earthwarmth through her body. She was about to withdraw completely, when something new rushed through the dog’s mind.

  Terror.

  From the direction of the town, a sharp, shrill whistle rent the morning air, and every fibre of the dog’s body, every muscle and nerve, tensed and trembled. The animal whirled round, ears cocked, finding the direction of the sound. The midden and the promise of food were instantly forgotten as it turned its focus to the source of the whistle: a figure, male, bright and aggressive, standing by the gate to the town, out of sight and just around the fenceline from Saria.

  Even with only gentle mind contact, Saria could feel every tremor in the dog’s body as, summoned beyond its power to resist, it slunk towards the town, belly flat to the sand.

  Then it was gone. Her link vanished as quickly as it had come, and Saria found herself alone beside the rubbish pile, slightly dizzy with the recollection of the dog’s fear. Quickly she let herself sink down further onto the sand, breathing deeply to recover her balance.

  She needed to get back to the bushes. Suddenly the only thing she wanted was to lie down in the shade and sleep. As soon as she felt able, she started back around the fenceline, retracing her steps until she reached the point where she had originally joined the thorn fence, then, with only a quick glance around to make certain that nobody was nearby, she darted away from Olympic and over the crest of the rise. A sense of relief flooded through her when she spotted the faint outline of her tracks in the sand, and as fast as she could she followed them back until she arrived at the sleeping place.

  Dreamer Gaardi was still snoring as Saria crawled thankfully under her own shrub. As she settled in the shade, the lingering memory of the dog’s abject terror sent a tremor through her. The sensation was quickly replaced with exhaustion, and slowly she relaxed until finally she allowed herself a brief smile.

  She hadn’t found Dariand and she hadn’t discovered anything about Olympic, but she’d managed to get away on her own, to reach into another creature, and Dariand didn’t know she’d done it, and could do it again if she needed to. It was a minor victory but a victory nevertheless.

  And as she slipped into sleep, the knowledge that she wasn’t completely hopeless or helpless made her smile even more.

  At least now she had some power.

  That night, as they walked, there was little conversation.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Dariand snapped, as Saria stumbled yet again.

  ‘Nothing. I’m just tired.’

  ‘I don’t see why. You slept all day.’

  Even through her fatigue it took some effort to stop herself smiling. If Dariand only knew.

  Of course now, as they marched nightwards away from Olympic, she was paying the price of her daylight independence. The full water-skin which Dariand had slung across her back was heavy, chaffing at her neck and shoulder, and her legs and feet had swelled so the leather thonging of her shoes bit into
her calves. The exhaustion that usually set in late in their evening’s walking had come much earlier tonight, sped up by lack of sleep.

  And the little rest she’d had during the day had been strange, too, disturbed and interrupted by dreams – the memory of the dog’s terror triggered vivid nightmares which left her sweating. When Dreamer Gaardi had shaken her awake in the early evening, Saria felt as though she’d barely been to sleep. Her eyes were filled with grit and her back and neck ached from the hard ground.

  Dariand wasn’t-much better, either. He’d spent the day hidden in a narrow gap underneath an abandoned hut and by the time he managed to extricate himself and the water-skins from Olympic it was already late into the evening. The waste of time had put him in a bad mood.

  ‘Sorry,’ she retorted. ‘I’ll try not to slow you down any more. Go on without me if you’d like.’

  Dariand increased their pace.

  After an endless night of slogging across the plains, daylight found them picking across a raised causeway between two dry lake beds. Something was strange about the narrow path. On either side, the saltpans glittered into the distance, but the causeway ran dead straight, directly nightwards without veering. The flat surface on which they walked was high above the old lake, and to their left and right rocky walls of scree fell away down to the dry surface.

  The ground was different too: tiny bluish stones, all angles and corners which poked sharp edges into Saria’s feet, even through her shoes. Odd black rocks, broad and flat, suggested that this broken, crazed and fragmented path had once been smooth. Saria picked one up and was surprised to find it slightly soft, with a strange odour.

  ‘What is this?’

  She held out the rock to show Dariand, who barely glanced down.

  ‘Just a stone.’

  ‘It’s different.’

  ‘Not here it isn’t. Look around; there’re thousands of them.’

  ‘But this whole place is strange. Why is it so straight?’

  Dariand snatched the rock from her. ‘It’s already daylight, and unless we get across this landbridge we’ll be trapped in the sun, so start putting your energy into walking, alright?’ He hurled the flat stone off the causeway. It arced briefly, a blur against the growing blue vault, then bounced several times before sliding to a halt, a dark blemish on the pale surface.

  Saria followed sullenly as the pace increased yet again, and was soon too breathless to talk.

  The sun was high by the time they reached the end of the causeway and Dariand angled towards an outcrop a little way off, leaving the pathway of flat black rocks to curve in the other direction, slipping across the landscape as far as Saria could see.

  At the outcrop, Dariand led them into a narrow opening between two massive red boulders. The rocks overhung, forming a natural cave and providing deep shade.

  ‘Wait here.’

  He slipped back into the daylight and Saria, exhausted, slid to the sand. Dreamer Gaardi crouched at her feet and began to unlace her shoes.

  ‘Dreamer, what was that place? With the flat rocks?’

  ‘The landbridge? Funny place, that. Very old. It was old even before the Shifting. Those rocks are strange, but there are a lot of strange things on these plains.’

  Saria stared up at the narrow thread of blue vault visible between the rocks above. A slight breeze whispered through the rift. Otherwise there was stillness. Saria was just beginning to fall asleep when Dariand returned.

  ‘Don’t sleep yet. We need to eat.’

  He threw a small pile of twigs onto the sandy floor.

  ‘I’m not eating sticks.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you don’t have to.’

  From inside his robes, he withdrew two small stones, dark in colour but different from the ones on the causeway.

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Firestones. Come and watch.’

  Crouching over the pile of twigs, he banged the rocks together and, to Saria’s astonishment, sparks flew into the few dry leaves that clung to the twigs. As they landed, Dariand blew gently over them and a tiny flame kindled itself.

  ‘There.’

  ‘How does that work?’ Saria was amazed. Back in the valley they had dung-fire, of course, and one of Saria’s tasks had been to keep it smouldering through the day, checking regularly so it could be used to kindle their night fire. Once she had allowed it to go out and had earned herself a thrashing from Ma Lee every day until a scrub fire on the nightwards ridge meant they’d been able to re-start their own again.

  ‘These are very old.’

  ‘But how do they work?’

  ‘You don’t need to know.’ His dismissive tone infuriated her.

  ‘Why not? Why do you get to decide what I need to know?’

  ‘Because even if I told you, you’ll never have to use them.’

  ‘You don’t know that. What if I leave you?’

  Dariand looked amused.

  ‘Then you’d die.’

  ‘I could look after myself.’

  ‘Really? I’d like to see how. Perhaps you should make your way to Woormra alone then.’

  ‘You don’t mean that.’

  ‘You’re right, I don’t.’ His face grew serious. ‘But I do mean this: there is no place you can go out there where I can’t find you. And if you’re stupid enough to try it, then you have my word you won’t last more than half a day. If you’re lucky, you’ll collapse from thirst or get bitten by a snake. If you’re unlucky, someone else will find you before I do.’

  ‘That would be better than you ordering me around.’

  ‘Saria. I know this is difficult but you need to trust me.’

  That line again, Saria thought to herself.

  ‘The Darklands are old and dangerous. There are … forces here, dangerous forces that go back to when this land was young and filled with people who could walk in the sky and burn rocks and stones. There’s things I don’t understand about these lands, and I’ve spent my life walking them. Without me, you have no hope out there and you’re too important to let anything happen to you. We must get you to Dreamer Wanji in Woormra.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Of all the Dreamers he’s the one who knows all of the old stories. He’s the one who hears the Earthmother the most clearly.’ He reached across and touched her lightly on the top of her arm.

  Saria shook his hand away and marched to the cave opening. The plains stretched into the distance and a movement in the vault caught her attention. She stared as a large bird wheeled slowly in the air.

  ‘I wish that was me,’ she muttered, and for a moment contemplated making good her threat to run. She could get back to Olympic, or possibly even home to the valley. She’d find creatures and use their senses to find her way, a bit at a time. And if Dariand could sneak into the town and get water, then so could she.

  The thought of being back in the valley, basking like a lizard by the creek or tracking rock-hoppers through the scrub, brought tears to her eyes. She wondered how Ma would react if she showed up there again.

  ‘Don’t do it, girl.’

  Dreamer Gaardi was standing behind her. She hadn’t even heard him approach.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Head off out there on your own.’

  She regarded the old man with surprise. ‘How do you know what I’m thinking?’

  ‘You reckon I only reach into animals, eh?’

  ‘You were reaching me?’ Saria’s eyes widened. She’d never even considered that it might be possible to reach into another person. There didn’t seem to be any point.

  ‘Nah.’ Dreamer Gaardi laughed. ‘At least not this time. You gotta have a bit more connection to a person to get into their head.’

  ‘How did you know I was thinking of running, then?’

  ‘I’m not stupid, am I?’ The old man’s eyes crinkled with good humour. ‘All that talking back there, I’ve got a good pair of ears too, you know!’ His chuckle was deep and throaty.

  ‘Do you reckon I
could get away from him?’

  Dreamer Gaardi’s face grew serious as he considered her question.

  ‘You might. For a while, at least. But I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘What he says is true, girl. You’ve got a lot more to learn. And when you do, you might not want to run so much.’

  ‘He never explains anything. I just want to know what’s going on.’

  ‘That’s his way. And anyway, I reckon you’re learning a lot more about this place than you even realise.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Come on, now, both of you. Saria needs to rest.’

  Dariand had come up behind unnoticed. Saria wondered how long he’d been listening.

  ‘But …’

  ‘No. Dreamer Gaardi’s talked enough.’ It was hard to be certain, but Saria thought she caught a flash of anger across the nightwalker’s features. ‘I’ve got meat on the fire. Come and eat, and then we sleep.’

  He’d roasted some kind of lizard over the coals and Saria forced herself to swallow a few mouthfuls. Both men ate their fill then all three settled to sleep.

  When they woke, Dariand was in much better spirits. The day’s sleep seemed to have driven away the previous night’s grumpiness. As they gathered their travelling gear, he even reached out and ruffled his fingers through Saria’s dark, tangled hair. The sensation reminded Saria of Ma Lee stroking her head that last night in the valley, but coming from Dariand the gesture seemed forced and awkward. He was aware of it too, and quickly pulled his hand back and turned away.

  ‘All set for a walk?’ His tone was lighthearted, but there was a vaguely embarrassed undercurrent to the way he spoke.

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Good. You ready, Dreamer Gaardi?’

  The old man nodded.

  ‘Let’s get moving.’