Harvest Time

7 - The Village

By the time we reached the village, I was exhausted, though that was from the extra weight as opposed to the distance. The village itself was no more than a ramshackle collection of small log shacks constructed from fallen trees, of which I had seen plenty on the journey here. The logs were crudely chopped and fashioned as to interlock at the corners. Most shacks possessed window openings though none contained glass. They sat in a jungle clearing close to a running stream.

I was given a meal – some sort of meat and vegetable stew. I could only start eating once they assured me that the meat had not come from the feeding pit but from the honest hunting of animals. As we ate, I was introduced to the others, who numbered twenty-three. Some of the eldest were more than five feet tall. Most were dressed in clothes that had been patched or appeared to have been made for someone of a different size. The youngest, a girl named Emla, appeared to be about a year younger than me. Her shoulder-length dark hair hung straight down as the greater gravity here refused to let it even think about beginning to curl. The tips of her ears poked out through it as if they were trying to escape. Her solemn expression and the intense gaze she aimed in my direction forced me to look away.

More than a quarter of the villagers lacked a hand or foot, taken, I was told, by the mashers inside the Harvesters when they were captured. I told them about that poor breeder who had been mashed up to the top of her legs. It came as no surprise to them as they all had similar stories.

After I had eaten, Teshlo made me tell them about how we'd killed the Harvester.

"See," said the old woman whose name was Elcanah, "I knew they weren't completely invulnerable. We'd speculated about that in our time after they first started coming through. I was researching the machines and why they always targeted the breeders and other crowded areas. We tried laying traps and attacking them but, with metal so scarce, we never constructed anything that ever worked. Was the mirror mount made of metal?"

I nodded. "Yes, it was one of the originals. We could only make new ones out of wood."

"And the mirrors themselves – are they still made of silvered glass?" she asked.

"I think so," I replied. "But I've heard that the process is a secret and only told to apprentice mirror makers when they make it their profession."

"Secrets will kill us," she snorted, her countenance so dark I wondered if she was permanently angry. "The curse of a failing civilisation. Still, at least we've taken longer to fall than the creatures of this world. Has Teshlo told you that they were once men?"

I nodded once more.

"They, like us, lost the secret of travelling through Between. Their history shows that it was only a temporary loss. But, when old documents were reinterpreted and the technique regained, they discovered that this world lacked something essential to sustain human growth – at least that's how I read it. Either that or something came through from Between that changed the balance here."

A woman who had been introduced to me as Conglee, muttered, "As we found for ourselves."

"Yes, indeed," Elcanah said, with annoyance at being interrupted. "They needed to find a supply of something to counter it. Unfortunately for us, they found that supply."

"What?"

"Us," she replied. "But it wasn't enough. On this world, they could not stop the degeneration."

"What are you going to do?"

Elcanah snorted. "Do?" she spat. Then she rose to her feet and went inside one of the shacks.

A man called Treyan who, I noticed, kept glancing in the direction of the young girl, Emla, answered my question. "The knowledge that Harvesters can be disabled will be discussed and acted upon should we agree to a form of action that might result in success. Being so few here, our resources are far from large and most of the time is spent just trying to stay alive."

"It's heavier here as well," I said.

"Indeed," Teshlo said. "Gravity here is estimated to be thirty to forty per cent higher than Nervanna. You will either get used to it or it will kill you."

"Kill me?"

"You are nearly fully grown?" Treyan asked, to which I nodded. "On Nervanna, our bodies have, for thousands of years, been adapting to lighter gravity, reducing our height and weight, weakening the strength of our hearts. Some, though not many, that come through die within days – their bodies no longer able to handle the increased gravity. Especially the few breeders that have come through intact, as their girth is already a strain on their hearts. You look as if you might survive, but there is no guarantee."

"How many die?"

"Over the past few years, we have seen at least twelve breeders die and six non-breeders, though the last were mostly of middle age – between thirty-five and fifty. If you survive, you will be the first this year."

"This year? How long before I know?"

"A few days," Teshlo said with a shrug. "You're quite slim so your clothes won't be much use to most of us, apart from Emla maybe. Breeder clothes, when they are wearing them, go a long way."

"If they don't get eaten," I mumbled. Emla's eyes met mine for a moment.

"Yes, but a sore point for some," Teshlo continued. "Emla here arrived about a year ago. She had clung to her breeder sister when she was grabbed. Emla fell inside the Harvester while her sister was consumed."

I swallowed, unable to stop it.

"How do we get back?" I said, trying to move away from the subject.

I noticed several raised eyebrows and Teshlo sighed.

"They always have to ask that," muttered one of the others. The man had been introduced to me as Dakka and also as the provider of the meat for the meal. Beside the crude chair upon which he sat were a large bow and a quiver of arrows.

"There is no going back," Teshlo said and several others nodded.

"But you said the Harvesters go back every few days," I countered.

"So they do," Treyan answered, "but we cannot predict as to which citadel they will return. Some may even go to citadels that no longer exist."

"Also," Teshlo said, "when they go back, we think between six and ten years will have passed on Nervanna. Even if you do manage to return to your own citadel, everyone you know will be six or more years older."

I was getting angry and I shouted, "Does that mean, you have never even tried to go back?"

They stared at me.

"One girl did," said a man without a left hand.

"The smaller machines killed her before she could get back inside a Harvester," Teshlo added. "They threw her into the masher in the building, which is where they put any bodies that are not fully liquidised."

I swallowed hard yet again. "Isn't it possible to sneak back in earlier?"

"Possibly, but they are always active around the Harvesters before they go back. Where would you hide?"

"We killed a Harvester," I said, my voice trembling. "Why can't the smaller machines be killed? Have you tried that? How many are there?"

Treyan exchanged a glance with Teshlo.

"We think the smaller machines are the ones that send the Harvesters to Nervanna in the first place," he said. "If you kill them, then maybe nothing goes back at all."

"Oh," I said but, as I spoke, I saw Emla delicately shake her head, causing her hair to sway only a little, as if she had reason to disagree with that last statement.

Thanks for reading. Please don't forget to comment and vote on the story! The next part will be along in a week or two.