Descending Road - NURUMIN AND THE STARS by Dana W. Paxson

NURUMIN AND THE STARS

1544 4D

The sunset that evening reached from its crimson center in the west, ahead of the train, to span out green over the distant mountains in the north and the lower hills in the south. The City-steeped soldiers gazed, riveted, as dark aquamarine shadows rose ponderously like dreams entering a drugged mind, slowly shrouding the country’s grandeur in a dim gigantic sleep.

Andrew awoke suddenly. The car was darkened now, and the windows of the train showed only blackness. Nexi‘s head lay on Nurumin‘s shoulder; Nurumin looked out the window and upward, not moving. The rush and clicking of wheels on the tracks rode over the whisper-sounds of many breathing sleepers.

“Stars,” Nurumin said.

“What?” Andrew leaned forward and across Nexi to look out.

“The stars,” Nurumin repeated. “Look.” He nodded; Andrew could see by some faint light the whites of his upturned eyes.

Andrew worked his way past Nexi‘s knees to where he could follow Nurumin‘s gaze, and then he saw the sky, filled with biting points of white and tinted brilliance more potent than the flashes of a black velvet table laid with diamonds.

On some of his childhood sojourns to the City‘s top, avoiding his father’s rages, he had stayed until sunset and the coming of the stars to the sky, but then he had been afraid to stay too long, and the evening sky had not darkened enough to let more than a few shy pinpricks of white appear.

Now, this spectacle, amplified by his rest and the altitude and the depths of the night, overpowered his feelings; he sank down on his knees, resting his arms on Nurumin‘s lap, his lower legs across Nexi‘s feet.

The starlight was strong enough to give form to the landscape; now, taller mountains fringed their path, closer and sharper and deep gray in a somber panorama. Peaks rose to obscure the stellar patterns briefly, and then pass by.

Like a man finding water after days with none, Andrew drank in the sky with its tiny scintillating lights, and the dark world that slid past beneath it. He and Nurumin stayed, staring, for a long time. Nurumin began to sing in a soft voice, in words accented and pitched strangely, the sounds so changed that Andrew could barely understand them.

“They clapped us in the chains o’ sleep,

And drove us frae the Sun,

The bitter chills o’ blackest space

Near killed us every one,

But now we’ve got a new world’s light,

No more to gang awa,

We’ll walk again the hills and dales

Of Caledonia.”

“That’s a strange song,” Andrew said. “I never heard anything like that before. It doesn’t… but it…"

“It’s from the Colonist Archives, a recording. The original colonists sang it, just that way, when they arrived here on Tarnus ten thousand years ago.”

“But that’s a mythtale. There’s recordings of all kinds of stuff in the Archives like that, like Dierdosan The Star-Seeder and his family.”

“I don’t care. I care about this.” Nurumin gestured up at the stars. “This is my truth. So I sing to it.” He looked up and out again, bony nose jutting long from a round face, eyes wistful. Andrew stayed with him for a long time, until the brightest of the stars began to sink below the advancing shoulders of the deepening mountains.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	NURUMIN AND THE STARS 1544 4D The sunset that evening reached from its crimson center in the west, ahead of the train, to span out green over the distant mountains in the north and the lower hills in the south. The City-steeped soldiers gazed, riveted, as dark aquamarine shadows rose ponderously like dreams entering a drugged mind, slowly shrouding the country’s grandeur in a dim gigantic sleep. Andrew awoke suddenly. The car was darkened now, and the windows of the train showed only blackness. Nexi‘s head lay on Nurumin‘s shoulder; Nurumin looked out the window and upward, not moving. The rush and clicking of wheels on the tracks rode over the whisper-sounds of many breathing sleepers. “Stars,” Nurumin said. “What?” Andrew leaned forward and across Nexi to look out. “The stars,” Nurumin repeated. “Look.” He nodded; Andrew could see by some faint light the whites of his upturned eyes. Andrew worked his way past Nexi‘s knees to where he could follow Nurumin‘s gaze, and then he saw the sky, filled with biting points of white and tinted brilliance more potent than the flashes of a black velvet table laid with diamonds. On some of his childhood sojourns to the City‘s top, avoiding his father’s rages, he had stayed until sunset and the coming of the stars to the sky, but then he had been afraid to stay too long, and the evening sky had not darkened enough to let more than a few shy pinpricks of white appear. Now, this spectacle, amplified by his rest and the altitude and the depths of the night, overpowered his feelings; he sank down on his knees, resting his arms on Nurumin‘s lap, his lower legs across Nexi‘s feet. The starlight was strong enough to give form to the landscape; now, taller mountains fringed their path, closer and sharper and deep gray in a somber panorama. Peaks rose to obscure the stellar patterns briefly, and then pass by. Like a man finding water after days with none, Andrew drank in the sky with its tiny scintillating lights, and the dark world that slid past beneath it. He and Nurumin stayed, staring, for a long time. Nurumin began to sing in a soft voice, in words accented and pitched strangely, the sounds so changed that Andrew could barely understand them. “They clapped us in the chains o’ sleep, And drove us frae the Sun, The bitter chills o’ blackest space Near killed us every one, But now we’ve got a new world’s light, No more to gang awa, We’ll walk again the hills and dales Of Caledonia.” “That’s a strange song,” Andrew said. “I never heard anything like that before. It doesn’t… but it…" “It’s from the Colonist Archives, a recording. The original colonists sang it, just that way, when they arrived here on Tarnus ten thousand years ago.” “But that’s a mythtale. There’s recordings of all kinds of stuff in the Archives like that, like Dierdosan The Star-Seeder and his family.” “I don’t care. I care about this.” Nurumin gestured up at the stars. “This is my truth. So I sing to it.” He looked up and out again, bony nose jutting long from a round face, eyes wistful. Andrew stayed with him for a long time, until the brightest of the stars began to sink below the advancing shoulders of the deepening mountains.