Night Fall

by Simon R. Green

  “Earl Grey, I’m afraid,” said Wu Fang, as he poured tea into delicate china cups. “I fear I have settled into very British ways since I came here.”

  “You don’t look old,” said Dash. “Not your proper age, anyway.”

  “You look just as I remember, from the last time I saw you,” said Shirley. “As though not a day has passed.”

  “We should never have given you the Dragon’s Blood,” said Dash.

  “I never understood why you did,” said Wu Fang. “I would not have done the same for you had our situations been reversed. Still, you both look in remarkably good shape, for your years. Could it be that you took just a sip of the Dragon’s Blood for yourselves?”

  Dash and Shirley said nothing. They all sipped their tea in silence for a while.

  “Well,” said Wu Fang. “What are we going to do, about the Droods?”

  “You tell us,” said Dash. “What can we do? Two antiques like us, and a retired arch-fiend, against an army of Droods?”

  “I would suggest we start with these,” said Wu Fang.

  He held out his hand, and on his palm lay a pair of dice, midnight black with rubies for points. The tiny crimson gems gleamed like unblinking eyes.

  “Chaos dice,” said Dash.

  “Nasty things,” said Shirley.

  “Tiny calculating machines,” said Wu Fang. “Created to undo chance and subvert possibilities. Such as: whether a Drood has his armour on or not. Whether it is completely invulnerable. And other, subtler things . . .”

  “When the odds are against us, change the odds in our favour,” said Dash. “Good thinking.”

  “Do the people who come here to gamble know you have these dice and what they can do?” said Shirley.

  Wu Fang smiled. “Did you not see the pair I have placed on open display, for all to see? It is not my fault if my guests do not pause to look at them and consider the implications.”

  “Even chaos dice won’t be enough to stop Droods,” said Dash. “Not a whole army of them. What have you got in the way of weapons?”

  “I have these,” said Wu Fang. He opened a drawer in his desk, brought out a pair of handguns, and placed them on the desk-top. He pushed them towards Dash and Shirley.

  “Derived from the Droods’ Colt Repeaters,” said Wu Fang. “My people acquired one from a Drood field agent, whose taste for gambling was not matched by his skill, and my technical staff were able to duplicate some of the gun’s remarkable abilities. They aim themselves, they never miss, and they never run out of ammunition. Sadly, the bullets are only ever standard issue. The original gun was reluctant to yield all of its secrets, and we only had so much time before it had to be returned to the field agent. Neither the Drood nor I wanted his family to know it had ever gone missing. So the bullets will not penetrate Drood armour, under normal conditions. You must rely on the chaos dice to give you your chances.”

  “What weapon will you be using?” said Shirley.

  “Something of my own,” said Wu Fang.

  “Something fiendish,” said Dash. “I doubt you’ve changed that much. Why are you so ready to fight alongside Shirley and me? We were enemies for so many years . . . Chasing each other across roof-tops, and in and out of water-front cellars. We came so close to killing each other so many times . . .”

  “I have not forgotten,” said Wu Fang. “Why did we spend so much of our lives intent on each other’s destruction? Perhaps we realised that only we were worthy of our time and talents. I sometimes wonder if you did win, in the end. With all my marvellous schemes and incredible genius, I should have been a legend in my own right; but you took up so much of my attention, I never could get anything done. And now, when I am remembered at all, it is as just another of the Continental Op’s many foes. But . . . I am still going strong, while you have grown old and frail; so perhaps that is my revenge. And yet, I will admit . . . I am bored, being a businessman. The name of Wu Fang is respected throughout the Nightside but not feared. Not feared as the Demon Claw was. I yearn to be what I really am, one more time. Fighting the small-minded and sanctimonious Droods, and sowing terror in their arrogant hearts. It seems to me that a man who could teach the Droods fear . . . would be a legend after all.”

  “You always did like to talk,” said Dash. “But what are you prepared to do?”

  “I will show the Droods my chaos dice, then turn you loose with your guns,” said Wu Fang. “I think I would enjoy seeing the two of you in action again: the Continental Op and the Lady Phantasm.”

  Dash picked up one Colt Repeater, and Shirley picked up the other. They checked the guns out, quickly and professionally, looked at each other, and nodded.

  “You have a deal,” said Dash.

  “But I am not wearing the costume,” said Shirley.

  “Then let us go,” said Wu Fang, rising elegantly to his feet. Dash and Shirley stood up, a little more slowly and carefully.

  “If this plan of yours doesn’t work . . .” said Dash.

  “Is there a back way out of this place?” said Shirley.

  “Practical as ever,” said Wu Fang. “When we enter the clearing, you will see a path leading off, opposite the one that brought you in. You are, of course, free to leave whenever you decide best; but I shall not be going. This is my place, my Garden of Delights, and I will not be driven from it. I have grown old, in years if not in body, and I feel . . . worn out, and worn thin. I shall make my stand here. And show the Droods what fear really is.”

  “You’re right,” Shirley said to Dash. “He did always like to talk.”

  They all laughed, just a little; and then they went out, into the jungle.

  * * *

  • • •

  The Sarjeant-at-Arms brought his column of Droods to a halt before the Garden of Delights. Along the way he had received word from one of his local agents that Dash Oblivion and his wife could be found there, and the Sarjeant saw possibilities in that.

  “I want them,” he said bluntly to his people. “As prisoners, they would give us leverage over their sons. And having Larry, Tommy, and Hadleigh Oblivion under our thumb could make a big difference to how quickly the Nightside falls.”

  His second in command, Anastasia, looked at the Garden of Delights. “Why did you send Conrad, Howard, and Callan away? They’re experienced field agents, and we’re talking about going up against legends.”

  “Callan and Howard can be trusted to track down the Authorities on their own,” said the Sarjeant. “And I wanted Conrad to catch up with the Matriarch and explain what we’re doing. Besides, while they are proven fighters, I’m not convinced they have the stomach for the kind of things we might have to do here.”

  Anastasia nodded quickly. “We can’t trust anyone any more. The only way to win in the Nightside is to shoot first and ask questions of the survivors.”

  “You’re learning,” said the Sarjeant.

  “Do we armour down again before we go in?” said Anastasia.

  “Not this time,” said the Sarjeant. “I’m not interested in negotiating.”

  He headed for the front door, followed by Anastasia, and the tuxedoed doorman moved to block their way.

  “So sorry, honoured visitors. You can’t come in. You are not on the list.”

  “Move,” said the Sarjeant.

  “Or we’ll move you,” said Anastasia.

  “Screw you guys,” said the doorman.

  He grabbed hold of a bone amulet hanging around his neck, and just like that a Chinese demon was towering over the Droods. Huge and powerful, it was all fangs and claws and long, lashing tongue. The Droods didn’t need the Sarjeant’s order to open fire; they just blasted the demon with every gun they had. The impact of such massed fire-power threw it backwards, and it crashed through the door. By the time the Sarjeant walked through the open doorway, the demon was just a doorman again, ver
y human and very dead. The Sarjeant stepped over the body and moved on into the Garden of Delights, and the armoured Droods followed him in.

  * * *

  • • •

  An alarm was sounding when Dash, Shirley, and Wu Fang emerged out of the office into the jungle. A harsh, strident sound, that sent the tiny birds fluttering back and forth in a panic. Wu Fang smiled.

  “The Droods have entered my Garden. The fools.”

  “Will your people fight to protect you against Droods?” said Dash.

  “I would not ask such a thing of them. They will follow their orders and escort my guests out the back door.” Wu Fang looked into the shadows between the trees and laughed softly. “After Brilliant Chang killed off my old enforcers, I made a decision not to place my trust in fallible human defenders any more. This jungle is my protection, and like me, it is far more than it appears.”

  “I don’t care if you’ve stocked it with lions and tigers and velociraptors,” said Dash. “It still won’t stop Droods in their armour.”

  “Perhaps not,” said Wu Fang. “But it should soften them up for these.”

  He opened his hand to show them the chaos dice.

  * * *

  • • •

  The Sarjeant-at-Arms strode purposefully along the jungle path, with Anastasia right beside him. And if he was aware that his column was becoming worryingly strung out and separated behind him, he didn’t say anything. Armoured Droods were a match for anything a jungle could throw at them.

  He should have kept Conrad with him. The old African hand could have told him different.

  The Droods looked suspiciously around them as they made their way deeper into the Garden. Dash and Shirley wouldn’t have recognised this part of the jungle now. It had become a dark and sinister place, with danger on every side. The Droods could feel it even if they couldn’t see or hear anything specific. The Sarjeant became aware of a growing tension in his ranks and kept them moving. Soldiers work best when you don’t give them too much time to think. They all had guns and swords and axes, and the sooner they got a chance to use them, the sooner their confidence would return.

  Things stirred in the shadows between the trees. Holding back, staying carefully out of sight and out of range, they moved along with the Droods as they pressed deeper into the jungle. A few Droods fired off shots into the shadows but didn’t seem to hit anything. The Sarjeant snarled at them to keep moving and save their shots until they had proper targets.

  They finally emerged out of the trees into a brightly lit clearing, full of gaming-tables but no gamblers. Just cards and chips scattered across the tables, and a few crumpled bank-notes. The Droods didn’t touch them. Anastasia sniffed loudly.

  “The rats have deserted the sinking ship. They must have heard we were coming.”

  “Wu Fang wouldn’t run,” said the Sarjeant. “That would be beneath his dignity.”

  “What about Dash and Shirley Oblivion?” said Anastasia.

  “Let us hope they were stupid enough to stay too.” The Sarjeant looked around him, and when he spoke again, he kept his voice low. “We’re not alone. Something is here with us.”

  “I say we burn the whole damned jungle down,” said Anastasia. “Send a message.”

  “I like the way you think,” said the Sarjeant. “But I need Dash and Shirley alive.”

  Something was definitely moving on the edge of the clearing now . . . shadows that were more than just shadows. The Sarjeant barked out orders, and the Droods moved quickly to form a circle, facing out and covering the trees with their weapons. Nothing emerged into the light, but the movements were becoming stronger and more openly threatening. The Sarjeant used all the sensors in his face mask, including infra-red heat vision, and still couldn’t make out anything. He raised his voice, and his people moved forward, step by step, to get a better view of what was menacing them. Anastasia stuck close to the Sarjeant, holding her golden battle-axe at the ready.

  The moment the Droods reached the edge of the clearing, the trees’ branches lashed out like bark-covered tentacles. They snapped around the nearest Droods, pinning their arms to their sides and crushing them with inhuman force. More branches picked up Droods and threw them the length of the clearing. Others came hammering down like living bludgeons, slamming Droods to the ground with devastating force. But the Droods’ armour didn’t crack under the pressure, and falls and blows couldn’t hurt them. They were quickly back on their feet again, blasting the trees with every kind of gun they had and hacking and cutting at the twisting branches with golden blades. Strange matter sheared easily through living tissue, and the severed ends fell to writhe and coil angrily on the ground, spouting a thick black sap.

  Strange-matter bullets pulverised and shredded the trees, blowing them apart in showers of splinters. The Droods being held broke free and ripped the branches right off the trees. The Sarjeant raked the jungle with a machine-pistol, and even the heaviest tree-trunks exploded into wooden shrapnel. Anastasia advanced steadily into the jungle, hacking and cutting at everything that moved, grunting loudly with the effort of her blows. It felt good, so good, to have something physical to strike out at, and hurt. It would have been even better if the trees had screamed as they died, but then, you can’t have everything.

  Finally the Sarjeant called out for everyone to stop firing and for Anastasia to come back and join the group. The roar of gun-fire died quickly away, and the Droods lowered their swords and axes, looking around in quiet satisfaction at all the destruction they’d caused. Black sap dripped steadily from their golden blades. Anastasia stalked proudly out of the jungle to rejoin the Sarjeant. And that was when Wu Fang stepped gracefully out of the trees and into the clearing, with Dash and Shirley on either side of him. The Droods froze where they were. After a moment, the Sarjeant stepped forward to face Wu Fang.

  “Stand down,” he said. “You’ve seen what we can do. There’s no disgrace in being out-gunned. Surrender, and I give you my word you won’t be harmed. But give us even the slightest trouble, and I’ll have you killed.”

  “You do not give orders in my Garden,” said Wu Fang. “This is my place, and you should not have come here.”

  He threw the chaos dice lightly onto the ground, and they rolled to a halt at the Sarjeant-at-Arms’ feet. Showing snake eyes. And all the possibilities in the clearing ran riot. Droods’ armour shot back into their torcs, leaving them revealed and vulnerable. Some armour ran away like liquid gold, pooling around the Droods’ feet. Some armour became rigid as steel and imprisoned its wearers. Dash and Shirley raised their Colt Repeaters and targeted the Droods without armour. Steel bullets punched through the hearts and heads of unprotected Droods. Dash and Shirley fired again and again, their old hands steady with long-practised skills, and Droods crashed dead and dying to the blood-soaked ground. Some panicked and ran into the jungle, but it didn’t save them. The trees were waiting for them.

  The Sarjeant yelled at those Droods who still had their armour to hold their ground, and they did. One by one those with affected armour found it was adjusting to the random energies of the chaos dice, becoming firm and trustworthy again. Dash and Shirley saw what was happening and stopped firing. Wu Fang laughed happily in the sudden quiet.

  “This is what I wanted to see. My old enemies in action again, killing my new enemies. Old heroes shooting down new heroes. But now, dear Dash and Shirley, it is time for you to leave. There is nothing more you can do here, and soon enough, the Droods will be dangerous again.”

  “Come with us,” Dash said roughly. “You’ve had a long run, but it doesn’t have to end here. You can’t face this many Droods on your own.”

  “You could come with us,” said Shirley. “There are still battles to be fought.”

  “For you, perhaps,” said Wu Fang. “But I am tired . . . so very tired. Far too tired to run. Your guns will no longer kill Droods; so find somet
hing else that will. I shall remain here, in my Garden, and show the Droods my last surprise . . . and my last act of defiance.”

  Shirley leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Die well, Demon Claw.”

  “And take as many of the bastards with you as you can,” said Dash.

  “My plan entirely,” said Wu Fang.

  Dash and Shirley hurried off down the path that led to the backdoor. The trees’ branches twitched sluggishly as they passed but made no move against them. Wu Fang moved forward into the clearing, to face his foes. He was pleased to see so many Droods dead, but many more were still alive. Once again in control of their armour, they trained their guns on him. The Sarjeant bent down and picked up the chaos dice. He showed them to Wu Fang, then crushed the dice in his golden hand.

  Wu Fang just laughed softly.

  “Can I kill him?” said Anastasia. “I’d really like to kill that arrogant son of a bitch.”

  “Be my guest,” said the Sarjeant.

  Wu Fang opened his mouth, and breathed fire on the Droods. An endless stream of dragonfire, which melted every bit of armour it touched. The last gift of the Dragon’s Blood. Anastasia was blown off her feet by the impact of the flames and crashed into the Sarjeant behind her, bearing him to the ground. Wu Fang slowly turned his head back and forth, so that his flames covered the whole clearing, and not one Drood escaped him. They staggered back and forth, crying out in shock and horror as their armour melted and the terrible flames consumed them. Some tried to run, but the flames were faster.

  The dragon flames spread to the edges of the clearing, then leapt out into the jungle, the fires jumping from tree to tree. The Garden of Delights burned, and what had been a civilised gambling-den became a raging inferno. Wu Fang glowed with unbearable heat because no man was ever meant to blaze as brightly as a dragon. He was burning himself up to kill his enemies, and he was content with that. His smart Armani suit burst into flames, and his hair caught fire, burning with a blue flame. His old skin charred and cracked, but still he stood tall and proud. Still smiling. Wu Fang burned, as his Garden burned, as the Droods burned; and all was well.