by Brian Lumley
Then his eyes went to Lardis Lidesci, and he said:
“Old warrior, these people are in your debt. Without you I might have drifted free of my focus and slipped away. Moreover, I’m personally in your debt. Following the battle at The Dweller’s garden, my son and I relied greatly on your strength, you and your Travellers. Also, it was your people who took care of me when my son…after my powers…when they failed me. It seems to me I owe you, and I sense a great need in you. A need to know. I drew on your strength, now you can draw on mine.”
Lardis nodded and said, “My thanks, Harry Hell-lander, but there are needs and there are needs. There’s a seer ancestor’s blood in me, that’s true, but it can’t let me see into another world. You spoke of the battle at The Dweller’s garden. All of us here have seen some battles since then. I suspect that even now there’s a war going on in Sunside/Starside. Your son—but this time a son you never met—is fighting it. Or maybe it’s too late, over and done, and you never will get to meet him.”
“A son of mine?” said Harry. “Oh, I’ve sensed him, sensed them, upon a time or times. But if I’m in him then he’s in me, and not so distant after all. How long since you saw him, this son of mine?”
“Three long years,” said Lardis. “Since the day he left me here. I can’t think other than he’s dead and the war lost.”
“One of them is dead,” said Harry. “The dark one. I sensed his departure. But the other? Ah, no. He lives on.”
“Nathan?” Lardis gasped. “Alive? But…how do you know?”
“I’ve been in many,” said Harry once again, “and there are many in me. Do you want to know how it’s been these three long years, in Sunside/Starside?”
Lardis’s jaw fell open. “Do I want to—?” he gasped. “Only tell me what I must do!”
“Sit down,” said Harry. “All of you, on the floor. Hold me here in your minds, and concentrate. And if there’s that of me in Sunside/Starside—some child of me or mine—and if it can speak, I’ll find it and you shall hear it.”
And as they all sat down, he looked from face to face with his hollow hologram eyes, and said, “Are you ready now? Yes, I see that you are. Good, for now we go.”
Which was all the warning they had before the darkness set in. Then, after seconds or aeons of searching:
Voices…
At first faint and far distant, but gradually swelling out of the darkness, and the darkness itself brightening to a grey opacity.
A gruff man’s voice, speaking Szgany, but the translation was instantaneous through Harry’s telepathy. “Misha, lass, you need sleep. You’re so thin and weary that if he ever comes out of this he won’t recognize you anyway. Do you see that look in his eyes? No you don’t, do you? Those strange eyes of his: you could fall into them forever. But there isn’t any look in them any longer! They’re just vacant. It was a hell of a hard knock on the head he took; it’s still a wonder to me it didn’t split his skull and let his brains out! Since when we’ve done all we can for him, until there’s nothing left. Now it’s up to him.”
“Six months,” a female voice answered (but in fact it said “Twenty-five sunups”). “Six months ago, and the war against Starside finally won…and then this had to happen. For all that Nathan is and all that he’s done, why is the world so cruel to him? Can you answer me that, Andrei Romani?”
“Maybe that’s the way of it with his kind,” said the other. “His father, and his brothers—Nestor and The Dweller—they didn’t have much luck, either. A necromancer the one, and Necroscopes the others, none of them came to a good end. It’s such a terrible thing, to be able to talk to the dead and conjure them from their graves. Now he talks to no one and conjures nothing. Oh, he walks, however dazedly, eats, sleeps, and perhaps dreams. But it’s you who clothes him each morning, who walks him, feeds him, and tends his every need. And you’re the one who’s paying for it.”
“Let her be, Andrei,” said a second female voice (which Ben Trask and his people recognized at once). “It isn’t intentional, I know, but you’re just a blunt man and your words are hurtful. Can’t you see her pain?”
“I talk this way because I’m tired of seeing her pain!” the male voice answered. “There are plenty of others, including myself, who would share her duties, but Misha won’t let them. She does it all herself.”
“Oh, and is that so strange?” said the voice of Anna Marie English, ecopath. “And if you were in Nathan’s shoes, wouldn’t I do the same? He’s her husband and she loves him.”
“But all to no avail,” the other protested. “Does he hear, see, know anything at all that’s going on about him? It’s been six months now. He makes so little progress, and Misha suffers. Me, I’m only a ‘blunt man’ if you say so, but I’d gladly share her suffering. And plenty of others like me. But…what can I do?”
“The best thing you can do is leave them alone,” said Anna Marie. “Misha can cope, and if or when she can’t I’ll be here.”
“Huh!” Andrei snorted. “See what’s become of the clan Lidesci now. With Lardis away a Romani is chief, but who will give heed to a chief whose own wife turns a deaf ear, eh? And a wife of alien spheres at that!” His words might sound severe, but it was just his Szgany gruffness. “Well then, so be it. I’ll leave you women to it. But the moment you see any sign of improvement in the lad—any sign at all—I want to know about it. Meanwhile I’ve a town to rebuild, else when Lardis gets back I’m in big trouble!”
That last was as Szgany as a man could get—like “a bit of old Irish” in Anna’s world—but it was meant as encouragement. For with the Necroscope in this twilight state, an almost total amnesiac, the Old Lidesci never would be back. In speaking that way Andrei had put the cart before the shad, which was just his way of saying that all things were possible. Anna Marie English understood this well enough, and after he had gone she said:
“Pay no mind to my husband. He means no harm. Why, he loves Nathan as much as Lardis himself! He’s a worrier, that’s all.”
“Oh, I know that,” said Misha. “But between the two of us, Andrei’s not alone in his worrying. I mean, this is my Nathan, and look at him. Does he hear anything, do you think? And does he see anything? I mean really see anything? He’s not blind, I know that, because he steps aside if things are in his way. Or is it merely instinct that keeps him from harming himself like that? Deaf, dumb, and oblivious, what’s to become of him, Anna Marie?”
“He’s to get better, that’s all,” said the other. “And now that the war is over and the vampires defeated, destroyed, you needn’t fear that Nathan will come to harm during his recuperation. If we had access to my world, to its physicians…but no, that’s ridiculous, a forlorn hope. Nathan was our access!”
The opacity had cleared a little and was comparable now to a heavy, swirling fog. In the fog, two roughly female outlines were visible, one of which was seated while the other moved to and fro, wringing its hands. Trask and his team had determined from the conversation that they viewed the scene from Nathan’s point of view and through his eyes. Likewise, they supposed he must be hearing what was said, for they could hear it. But did it make sense to him? Did he understand it? The voices of Anna and Misha seemed deadly monotonous, as leaden as the foggy medium that carried them; Nathan might just as easily be tuned in to some strange form of Muzak as speech. And when the shrouded figures moved, his eyes scarcely followed them at all.
And now Harry spoke, but only to Trask and his people. For this was some fantastic probe that he was using—a combination of all their talents—while the “real” Harry was here at E-Branch HQ. “I understand how they must be feeling,” he said, “for his mind is a blank to me, too. It’s completely run-down, out of order, its polarity reversed. If an intelligent, thinking mind might be compared to a dynamo, Nathan’s has spun to a halt, been deactivated. I feel that I’m standing in a deserted house where nothing works, or at best in a rudimentary fashion. It’s possible we might learn something else from the conversa
tion between these caring women, but apart from that—”
“—Wait!” Lardis Lidesci growled.
“Oh?” said Harry.
“My seer’s blood,” said Lardis. “And this is my world that we’re looking into. I sense…something coming!”
“I sense it, too,” said Harry. “And I see it!”
They all saw it:
It entered the picture from a lighter patch of fluffy grey background, brushed against Misha’s legs as she reached down a vague hand to fondle its ears, came to a halt central of their arc of viewing. Misted, triangular eyes gazed in what seemed a doglike concern, and a grey tongue lolled. And for a moment—if only a moment—the picture cleared up somewhat. It seemed Nathan “saw” this one in just a little more detail. Perhaps it was a form of recognition.
Lardis knew at once what—or who?—he was seeing, while Trask, Chung, and Goodly (all of whom had visited Sunside/Starside but were less familiar with the vampire world’s creatures) took a moment longer. Then they remembered. But they would have known anyway, as soon as Misha said:
“So then, Blaze, you faithful one. You’ve come visiting us again, to follow your uncle’s progress and sit with him awhile. But as for progress: alas, it’s a slow, slow business. Not much to report, I’m afraid.”
And Lardis breathed, “Blaze, a wolf, one of the leaders of Sunside-Starside’s grey brotherhood. A wild thing come down out of the barrier mountains. Ah, but never such wolves as this one and his brothers—or his brother, as it turned out. There were three such upon a time, Blaze, Dock, and Grinner, thus named by Nathan. The Wamphyri took Dock with his stumpy tail. Those bastards: they had a craving for wolf-heart, livers, and tripes!”
And Trask said, “Nathan’s ‘nephews.’ Still hard to credit—even though I was there and saw it for myself.” And:
“My grandchildren,” said Harry. “Wolves of the wild! Now I understand. The last time I saw my Earth-born son, he was more wolf than man. He was forgetting what he’d been and being what he’d become, and advised me to do the same. Burned by the sun, reduced massively, he saved himself by devolving to a creature such as the one which had converted him. Vampirized by a wolf, he became a wolf. That was…shortly before I died.”
“He died, too,” said Lardis, “but not before he mated with a great white she-wolf. The three brothers—Nathan’s nephews, your grandchildren—came out of her. But as Nathan once told me, their minds were far in advance of wolf-minds. Mentalists, they talked to Nathan and each other over great distances. And Necroscopes, they could even commune with their human grandma, Brenda, calling her the Gentle One Under the Stones…” Lardis paused abruptly, then went on apologetically, “But forgive me, Harry. I was forgetting that—”
“—That you were taking me back too far,” said Harry, “to times and places where I’ve no desire to go. No, for my death released me from all of that.” And then, musingly, and changing the subject: “So then, this is a child of my child.”
“Indeed,” said Lardis. “For you are in many, even as many are in you.”
“Lardis,” said Harry, “you are a very wise old man. And of course something of me must be in Blaze, too. Moreover, if anyone knows what’s been happening in Sunside/Starside, and if we accept that a wolf’s viewpoint will probably be very different…then who better to tell the story?”
Eh? (One sharp-tipped ear went up, feral eyes opened wider, and the mist-wreathed outline of a wolf head inclined itself in what could only be an attitude of rapt attention.) And: Is that you in there, uncle? (The thought was as clear as crystal!) Did something stir? Are you returned to us from the darkness?
“He senses me,” said Harry. “And he has shields of his own, which he raises just a little…a wolf’s natural caution. But he’s curious, too. Blood of my blood, he can’t obstruct me. Nor would he want to, if he knew my purpose.”
Who is it? Blaze whined and retreated a little, his muzzle writhing back from wetly gleaming teeth, causing Misha to ask:
“Why, what is it, old friend?” But since she wasn’t telepathic, Blaze couldn’t answer her. And meanwhile:
“There,” said Harry. “It’s done!”
Like scenes in an experimental motion picture, moving from monochrome to colour, from viewpoint to viewpoint in the space of a few frames, the scene at once changed. But since this was no motion picture but remote viewing—and because the change had been unexpected and abrupt—its effect was dizzying!
Suddenly Trask and the others found themselves looking up at Nathan—at Nathan himself—seated on a woven chair in a shaft of late sunlight from the open door of a log cabin. Anna Marie’s shadow fell partly on his pale, vacant face, and Misha moved to kneel at his side, frowning as she reached out a hand towards…towards them? Towards Trask and his agents?
No, of course not. She reached out her hand towards Blaze!
For they were seeing her, seeing Misha, Nathan, the entire picture now, in sharp, colourful definition. Seeing it through the eyes of a wolf! As that fact dawned, so Blaze became simultaneously aware of a stranger, an intruder, someone other than his brother Grinner or his uncle Nathan, in his mind.
At which he was galvanized, and everything devolved into a wild panic flight!
The wolf’s speed was astonishing as he raced through the Szgany township called Settlement. Even from a wolf’s-eye view, low to the ground—and despite that the place showed signs of recent battle or of preparation for siege, with hurling engines everywhere on top of the massive timbered perimeter walls, and fortified rocket emplacements in strategic areas where sections of the wall could be moved aside on rollers, and imitation Wamphyri warriors over staked fire-pits—still Trask, Goodly, Chung, and especially Lardis remembered and recognized it. Upon a time they had fought what they’d thought was the final battle here.
Blaze went through Settlement and out through the west gate in a headlong rush, setting all of the township’s domestic dogs barking and snarling as he passed by (though not a one ventured to pursue him). It was only after he’d reached the forest’s rim, where the trees gave way to rocky ground and the foothills rose umber in the early evening light, that he eased off. For a wolf of Blaze’s years the run had been a great effort, but the longevity and strength of Sunside’s grey brothers was legendary.
By the time Blaze paused, however, even his heart was hammering and his four limbs trembling, while the stiffened ruff of fur along his spine had only just subsided a very little. Still very nervous, he came to a halt in a patch of gorse, turned and looked back at Settlement, then settled down on his haunches to catch his breath.
Wisely, Harry had waited till then before trying to talk to this extraordinary wolf again. And:
“Don’t run, Blaze,” he said, as calmly as possible. “For in any case you can’t outrun me. But tell me: why do you fear your own kith and kin?”
Blaze was up on his legs again in a moment, his teeth bared and the hair along his spine all spiky. But this time he didn’t run. My own kith and kin? he growled. Is that what I’m supposed to think? You were in my uncle Nathan, yes, but you’re not him. Some Lord of vampires, perhaps, who has usurped him? Whichever, you’re neither kith nor kin to me, so begone!
“Old wolf,” said Harry, “you can’t run forever, and I’m not your enemy but a friend. Indeed, I’m a great deal more than just a friend. And anyway, didn’t I hear the woman called Anna Marie say that the vampires are no more?”
Aye, and I’ve heard that one before! Blaze snarled. And for all that no one was there, he showed even more of his teeth. So now leave me be, for my mind is my own and private. He tried to raise his shields but Harry’s probe was stronger.
“Nathan is my son,” said Harry then. “As was Nestor. As was The Dweller, who sired you. And as for the Gentle One Under the Stones—do you still converse with her?—she was my wife, my mate, your grandmother.”
For long moments then there was confusion and mental agitation, then disbelief. Until finally Blaze barked his denial
. It is of old legend among the grey brotherhood that my father, The Dweller, died fighting the Wamphyri at the Starside Gate at the time of the Great White Light…likewise his father with him! No, you’re not my grandfather. What, you? The One called Harry? (He shook his wolf head.) Not so, for his ashes are long since vanished in the past, all blown away on Starside’s winds.
“And so they were,” said Harry. “My ashes, certainly, vanished into the past. But not my mind. Can’t you see we’re of a kind? Can’t you tell we’re of one blood? Who else may speak out of the beyond—or into it—but a Necroscope? I am your grandfather.”
And now Blaze knew it was so. Whining low in his throat, he said, I feel it now: not the lying, thought-thief probe of some rabid vampire, but deadspeak! You are a spirit, it’s true, gone from us into another place. Nor do you speak falsely, for while we never met before, still your thoughts are…familiar?
“We’re of one blood,” said Harry again.
But…what do you here? (Somewhat easier in his mind now, but still puzzled, Blaze had lain down again.)
“The Szgany have friends in what was once my world,” Harry told him, “and they have been worried about things here in Sunside/Starside.” He showed Blaze images of Trask and the others.
I know them! The wolf’s ears sprang alert. The Old Lidesci, aye. And some of the others, too: olden allies against the Wamphyri. I even know something of their strange world, as told to me by my brother, Grinner, who ventured there with my uncle.
“And then there’s that, too,” said Harry. “Your uncle Nathan’s problem. If I can, I would like to help him.”
Do you think you can? (A sigh of relief, which sounded as a cough or choked-back bark.) We were cubs together, and while he is my uncle he is also my friend.
“His mind is all askew,” said Harry. “It has taken a knock, and the pictures—all memories, knowledge—have slipped from view. Except…I thought that perhaps he recognized you, however vaguely. Other than that, your uncle is a blank space that needs filling in. But I’m not without certain skills. If you’ll walk us back to that township, back to Nathan, maybe I can help him. And along the way you could tell us how it’s been with the war and all. That way all our needs might be served.”