Deadspawn

by Brian Lumley

  Evil? Do you say I was evil? No, I was wronged. Wronged by the Wamphyri, my own kind! For I was stronger than them and they feared me. And you, son of my sons? Do you also fear me? See how you start awake from me, as if I were some DOOM come down upon you rather than your salvation.

  Shaithis went to close his mind … and hesitated. His hideous ancestor was the master of the dead volcano, wasn’t he? What harm could he do from there? This could well be the perfect opportunity to learn more about him without alerting the others to his presence.

  Shaitan picked all these thoughts out of Shaithis’s mind and chuckled monstrously. Aye, he gurgled, for it would never do to let them in on our secret. Not until it’s too late. Or at least, too late for them.

  Shaithis lay back, narrowed his eyes, and scanned across the glittering expanse of the ice castle’s hollow heart to focus upon the huddled shapes of Fess Ferenc and Arkis Leperson where they slept on. He reached out with his Wamphyri awareness to touch upon the flimsy mental barriers they’d erected about their sleeping minds, satisfying himself that they were in fact asleep. And finally, he answered that dark intelligence which had proclaimed itself his ancestor:

  I think I prefer you this way, Shaitan: out in the open, as it were, and not cloaked in dreams. But it was clever of you to break in on me like that. My so-called peers among the Wamphyri were never up to it.

  They were not of your blood, Shaitan at once answered. Or should we say, they were not of mine? Our minds mesh like those of twin brothers, Shaithis. It’s a sign that you’re a true son of my sons, so that we’re as one. We were meant to be as one and triumph over all adversity, and then go on to victories unimaginable.

  Aye, Shaithis said wonderingly, in this and in other worlds, as you have stated. I think it would be interesting to know more about that. Indeed it would interest me greatly to retake Starside from the alien enemies who dwell there now, and to avenge myself upon them. Now tell me your thoughts. For you’ve hinted we’ve a way to go together. Have you planned our first steps along that way? And how do I know I can trust you, anyway? Your legends are infamous even among the Wamphyri, who themselves are not much known for straight dealing.

  Again Shaitan’s loathsome chuckle. My son, you’ll trust me because you have to—because without me you’re stuck here—and I shall trust you for the same reason. But if a token of my goodwill is required: Have you not already seen enough of it? Who was it sent his small albino bats to you to keep your sore bones warm while you slept? And who was it disposed of one of your enemies, whose intentions were dire against you, to say the least?

  An enemy? Shaithis raised a mental eyebrow. And who might that have been?

  What? The other seemed taken aback. But you know well enow! I speak of the abominable whelky one, who disguised himself with pustules and was companion to the Ferenc. Why, time and again he urged that grotesque giant to seek you out and murder you!

  Shaithis nodded. That would be Volse’s way, sure enough. I was never a favorite of his. Nor he of mine. The monstrous clown: if his wens had been wits he’d outshone the lot of us! So it was your beast that killed him, eh?

  Of course, of course. Shaitan’s mental voice sank deeper and darker yet. And do you think I could not kill you, too? Ah, I could, my son, I could … but will not. His tone was light again in a moment. No, for I sense that we’ll do well together. And since in various ways I’ve already shown my goodwill, the next stage is up to you.

  Stage? Shaithis frowned. What stage is that?

  Of the plan, Shaitan explained. Or would you have me do it all, and likewise claim all the credit?

  Explain.

  But there’s nothing to explain. Just go along with it in accordance with your own plan—exactly as planned—and that will suffice. In short, bring them to me, my son, so that I may deal with them in my way.

  Fess and the leper’s son? And will you kill them? And then me, too, perhaps? Maybe I’d do better to stay joined with them against you? Better the devil you know, they say.

  And after long moments: Devil? That’s a word I don’t much care for, said Shaitan. I don’t know why, but I don’t like it. Be advised not to call me that again, not even obliquely.

  Shaithis shrugged. As you will. And before he could say or ask any more:

  They are waking up, Shaitan hissed. The squat one and the giant both. Best if I leave now and not compromise you. Only bring them to me, Shaithis! A great deal depends on it.

  And as suddenly as that, Shaithis’s mind was free of outside interference. But only just in time.

  “Shaithis?” The Ferenc’s rumble echoed in the cold air. “I sense that you’re awake. Hah! It’s a bad conscience make a man restless as you. You’ll have to mend your ways.” And he laughed uproariously. The ice castle shuddered and sent down a cascade of variously sized icicles, which in turn brought Arkis more fully awake.

  Scratching himself, the leper’s son sat up. “What’s all the noise?” he demanded.

  “Time we were up,” Shaithis called across to him. “No more delays. We make our breakfast—poor fare that it is—and then we’re on our way. What or whoever the volcano houses, he’s our meat today. And all his goods in the bargain.”

  “Big talk, Shaithis,” the other answered. “But we’ve to get past the pale, cavern-dwelling bloodbeast first.”

  “Three of us this time,” said Shaithis, “and forewarned is forearmed. Anyway, Fess knows the beast’s lair. We’ll give it a wide berth and seek some other way in.”

  The Ferenc chewed on cold meat and made his way down to the floor of the hall. “I for one am ready for it,” he said. “A man can’t live forever—not even a Lord of the Wamphyri, not that we’ve seen, anyway—and I’m damned if I’ll die of boredom or locked in the ice, terrified that something will find me there and dig me out.”

  Oh? Shaithis kept his thoughts guarded. Not live forever? Well, perhaps not … but close enough, if Shaitan is anything to go by. And wouldn’t that in itself be sufficient reason to team up with the ancient: To discover the secrets of his longevity? It surely would.

  As for Arkis and the Ferenc: Shaithis knew that sooner or later he’d be obliged to have it out with them, anyway, so why delay matters? And even better if Shaitan desired to have a hand in it.

  With these thoughts and others like them in his mind (but always guarded, especially thoughts such as these), Shaithis joined the others where they prepared to leave the ice castle. And a short time later the three set out upon their long, slow climb up the frozen rise to where the central cone jutted some fifteen hundred feet higher still. Like a black, crouching giant the tower of volcanic rock waited for them, somber under its canopy of cold stars and writhing auroral fire …

  Shaitan’s miniature albino bats accompanied them, almost invisible against the snow and ice glare, forming an endless entourage whose members came and went, reporting all back to their immemorial master. In this way he was kept informed of the progress of the three and was pleased to note that they followed a most admirable route—one which would lead them directly into one of his many mantraps. An ambush, aye, except that this time there would be no killing.

  No, for there were other, better things to do with men such as Fess Ferenc and Arkis Leperson than kill them, What? Good, strong Wamphyri flesh such as theirs? And they had their vampires in them, didn’t they? Just as Volse Pinescu had once had his in him …

  Ah, but that had been a treat!

  Volse had been monstrous on the outside, right enough, with all of his pimples, polyps, and other excrescences; but just half an inch under his whelky skin there had been a mass of fatty tissues and good, strong, long-pig meat hanging on a frame of bones like any other man. Except, because he was Wamphyri, there was a lot more to him than there was to other men, for deep inside him there was also his vampire. So that after Shaitan’s ingurgitor had drained him of his blood and dragged the shattered shell of him before its master—

  —What sheer delight: to tear open Volse�
�s pallid body and seek out his leech, the living vampire whose squirming had so cleverly avoided the ingurgitor’s siphon-like probe, but which could not avoid Shaitan. And finally to behead the thing and gorge on its nectar fluids, having first scooped up its skittering egg and stored it in a jar of Volse’s brains mushed to a paste, as a tidbit for later. Ah, yes—for to the Wamphyri, such is the essence of a gourmet feast!

  Even then Shaitan had not been quite finished with his victim. For extracts of Volse’s flesh (which was infected with vampire metamorphism and so not entirely dead even now) would be useful to him in his experimentation, the creation of hybrid creatures such as the ingurgitor and other useful constructs, to which end the flayed, drained, gutted, decapitated, but nonetheless “living” remains of Volse had been stored with Shaitan’s other materials, for use later.

  Aye, even as the giant Ferenc’s and the squat Arkis Leperson’s remains would be stored, if all went according to plan. But as for Shaithis … well, there are plans and there are plans.

  Shaithis was of the blood—of Shaitan’s blood—and of all the Wamphyri who had been, he was also beautiful. Not by human standards, no, but certainly by Shaitan’s. Beautiful, strong, vibrant with life. Ah, but then, the blood is the life! And when Shaitan dwelled on matters such as these, then he, no less than his wily descendant, kept his thoughts well hidden.

  Meanwhile, his small albinos continued to apprise him of the trio’s progress; in a little while he saw that they’d strayed from the path somewhat, so that he must needs redirect them. But in order to do that he must first contact Shaithis, who at that very moment toiled halfway up the fused volcanic slag cliffs toward the western face of the cone. The other two were within hailing distance, but their minds were concentrated on the task in hand.

  Shaitan aimed a narrow, powerful beam of thoughts directly into Shaithis’s mind, with which he was now a little better acquainted:

  Son of my sons, he said, you go somewhat astray. Your route requires some small adjustment.

  Shaithis was momentarily startled but quickly controlled the agitated flutter of his thoughts. Not before Fess Ferenc had sensed something, however.

  “What?” Fess called out across the precipitous, naked rock face. “Did something alarm you just then, Shaithis?”

  “My foot slipped on a patch of ice,” Shaithis lied. “It’s a long way down. If I had fallen … I was gearing myself for metamorphosis.”

  The Ferenc nodded across the gulf. “Aye, we grow weak. Upon a time I’d revel in forming an air-shape, and flying from these heights. Now it would deplete me considerably. We must watch how we go.”

  Now Shaithis could answer his ancestor’s inquiry, but he must do so carefully, with all of his effort concentrated on keeping his telepathic sendings private. To this end he made himself secure on a small ledge before answering:

  Shaitan, you almost gave me away then. Now tell me, how do we stray from the path? And how may I correct it?Also, you’d better tell me what to expect. I’ve no desire to end up pierced to the heart and drained off—like Volse Pinescu.

  Fool! the other at once hissed. I thought we had had that out? If I wanted you dead you would be dead. I could send a creature even now to buffet you, all three, from the face of the cliff. Perhaps you’d fly and perhaps not. Whichever, you’d be depleted. And my creatures would find you and finish it. But I need you, Shaithis—we need each other—and so you live. As for the others: I do not wish to damage them. I want them whole! Can’t you see what a fine pair of warriors Arkis and the Ferenc would make?

  Shaitan’s words were so ominous he could only be speaking truth. He would not dare boast of such superiority unless he could deliver. It was in effect an ultimatum, even a threat: make up your mind, join me now or suffer the consequences. In answer to which:

  Very well, said Shaithis, we work together. Tell me what to do.

  Without pause Shaitan explained: The leper’s son climbs too far towards the east, diagonally away from you. In his way lies an old unguarded lava-run which leads directly to my rooms at the volcano’s core. If Arkis were to discover the mouth of this cave he could jeopardize my position; certainly my plans would require rapid and radical alteration.

  An unguarded entrance? Careless of you.

  My resources are not unlimited. No more talk. You must draw the others—especially Arkis—back towards you.

  Very well, said Shaithis. And to the others, out loud:

  “Arkis, Fess, we’re too far apart—and I sense a problem to the east.”

  Arkis at once secured himself in a lava niche and peered out and about. “A problem?” he blustered. “And close by, you say? Huh! I sense nothing.” But his voice was full of nervous tension and his thoughts went this way and that.

  The Ferenc, closer to Shaithis by some fifty feet, began to edge towards him. “Something has bothered me all along,” he said. “I’ve had my suspicions, anyway. And you’re right, Shaithis: spread out like this we’re too easy to pick off.”

  “But I see and feel nothing!” Arkis again protested, like a man whistling in the dark.

  With a shrug in his voice, Shaithis called out to him: “Are you saying that your Wamphyri awareness is stronger than both of ours combined? Then by all means let’s test it out. Do as you will. Be the master of your own destiny. At least you were warned.”

  That was enough; Arkis started climbing more to the left, bringing himself back into line on a course converging with the others. And not a moment too soon; for Shaithis, from his own position, had finally spotted the dark shadow of a cave to Arkis’s right and a little above him. By now the leper’s son would certainly have come across it.

  In Shaithis’s mind the dark thoughts of his ancestor came a little easier. Good! The problem was not insurmountable, but the easy way is usually the best.

  What now? Shaithis inquired of him.

  Above you is a wide ledge formed of an earlier cone, Shaitan answered. When you strike it, move to the left, that is westward. Soon you will come across another lava-run; ignore it and carry on. The next entrance will seem like a mere crack occasioned as the rock cooled, but this is your route into the volcano. Except you should take up a position to the rear of the others! Do I make myself plain?

  Shaithis shivered, perhaps a little from the numbing cold, which was beginning to bite even into his Wamphyri bones, but mainly at what was implied. For thoughts, like speech, often lend themselves to diverse interpretation, and certainly he’d detected the ominous “tone” of the other’s slyly insinuating mental voice. Yes, and he’d known that the depth of Shaitan’s thoughts did not bear plumbing. It was strange to be Wamphyri and yet feel something of awe at the implied evil in another’s scheming.

  Shaitan, he eventually, cautiously answered, I’m putting my trust in you. It seems my future is now in your hands.

  And mine in yours, said the other. Now continue to guard your thoughts and concentrate on your climbing.

  And he was gone again.

  Shaithis suddenly found himself wondering at the wisdom of this dark liaison. Indeed there seemed little of wisdom in it; it was mainly a matter of instinct, and of course necessity. But any advantage was Shaitan’s. This was his territory and he knew it well, and he was not without resources. Shaithis could only hope that the ancient’s plans for the Ferenc and Arkis Leperson did not extend to him also. But he sensed that they did not. Not for now, anyway.

  His Wamphyri instinct again, which had seldom let him down. But there’s always a first time. And a last …

  He avoided morbid conjecture and looked for brighter omens. Of course there was always his dream: that first dream of the Lady Karen’s aerie, where he had been returned to power after some fabulous conquest of Starside and the destruction of The Dweller’s garden. He had the feeling that as dreams go there had been an element of foretokening to it. Except there was an old Wamphyri maxim that men should never read the future too closely, for to do so is to tempt destiny. And anyway, the dream had end
ed in disaster and ruin—but at least it had hinted that there was in fact a future to look forward to. How much of a one was anyone’s guess.

  “A ledge,” Fess Ferenc grunted, dragging himself up ahead of Shaithis. As Shaithis’s face appeared level with the rim, the giant reached down a huge, taloned hand; Shaithis looked at it for several long moments, then took it. And the Ferenc hauled him easily up onto the level surface.

  “Last time you had the chance you threw me down,” Shaithis reminded him.

  “Last time you were reaching for your gauntlet!” the giant replied.

  Then Arkis came up and joined them. “You and your premonitions!” he grumbled. “I still say I sensed nothing harmful. Also, I believe I was almost into some sort of cave. It might well have been a tunnel.”

  But Shaithis said, “Oh? An empty cave, d’you think? Or did it perhaps contain one of Fess’s sword-snouts?”

  “Wouldn’t I have sensed it?” Arkis frowned.

  Fess Ferenc scowled. “Volse didn’t,” he said. “Nor did I, until it was too late.” And turning to Shaithis, “What now?”

  Shaithis narrowed his scarlet eyes and made a small show of sniffing the air with his flattened, convoluted snout. “The area to the right still feels dangerous to me,” he said. “So I vote we follow this rim to the left awhile, out of the suspect region. We’ll see where it leads. At least it will give us a breather from all this climbing.”

  The Ferenc nodded his grotesque head. “Suits me. But how we’ve come down in the world, eh?”

  As they set off along the ledge, Arkis said, “Come down? How so?”

  The Ferenc shrugged. “Just look at us. Three Lords—or ex-Lords—of the Wamphyri, stripped of most of our powers, going like frightened children in a huddled group to explore strange new regions. And afraid of what might jump out on us!”

  “Afraid?” Arkis puffed himself up. “Speak for yourself!”

  The Ferenc sighed and said simply, “But I saw the thing that lanced the Great Boil, remember?”