by Brian Lumley
Following which he wouldn’t even listen to her. But even if he had it would have been too late.
For that was when Karen’s other watchers, great Desmodus bats from the aerie’s colony, brought news of the arrival on Starside’s far northern borders of Shaitan and his small but deadly aerial forces. Inaudible except to Karen and to others of their own genus, the cries of the great vampires relayed the message back across seven hundred miles of barren boulder plains: the fact that after four and a half years of peace, the Old Wamphyri were finally returning to Starside.
She was bringing mewling warriors out of their vats when the warning arrived, and went straight to Harry where he stood wrapped in his thoughts on a balcony facing north. ‘Stand there long enough, Necroscope,’ she told him, ‘and you’ll be able to wave them a welcome! Nor will you have to wait too long.’
He barely glanced at her, acknowledged her presence with a nod. ‘I know they’re here,’ he said. ‘I’ve felt them coming like maggots chewing on the ends of my nerves. They’re not so many, but they shake the ether like an army shakes the earth. It’s time we went to the garden.’
‘You go,’ she told him, touching his arm as some of the sting went out of her voice. ‘See if you can call down your son out of the hills. Maybe he’ll bring his grey brotherhood with him, though what good they’ll be is hard to say. But me, I’ve a trio of warriors to wean and instruct. They’re built of fine, fierce stuff, right enough — good stuff, left behind by Menor Maimbite and Lesk the Glut, which I found intact under the ruins of their stacks — but when it comes to the fashioning… well, it’s true I’m a novice compared to them.’
‘Just make sure they’ll own me as their master as well as yourself,’ was Harry’s reply. ‘That way, even if they haven’t the measure of Shaitan’s creatures, still I might be able to come up with a trick or two.’
Then he turned and caught her up so swiftly in his arms that she gasped aloud. And: ‘Karen,’ he said, ‘we’ve seen our futures: the red threads of our lives melting into golden fire, then fading to nothing. It didn’t look too good for us, but at the same time it could mean anything. We simply don’t understand it. And in any case, whatever it means, it has to be better than what we saw of our enemies’ futures; for they didn’t have any! No scarlet threads in Starside’s tomorrows, Karen.’
‘I remember,’ she said, without freeing herself, pressing more firmly to him. ‘And so I stay and fight. Whatever becomes of us, it’s worth it to know that they die, too.’
Harry held her very close, very tightly, and his looks were even more those of a small boy. He found himself wishing it were all a fantastic dream, and that he’d wake up a schoolboy with all his future ahead of him, but retaining enough of the dream that he’d make no false moves. Ah, if only things worked that way! ‘I wish I’d known you as some ordinary girl in my own world, when I was just a man,’ he told her on impulse.
Karen wasn’t so romantic. She had been an innocent in her time, until she was stolen. Now and then a blushing Traveller youth had wanted her, but in those days she’d kept herself (as she’d thought) for something better. Hah! ‘We would be fumbling, giggling lovers for an hour.’ Her answer was harsh. ‘To hell with it… I prefer what we’ve had! Anyway, you are the Necroscope. What do you know of ordinary men?’
The fire in her was a catalyst; it burned outwards through her shell to illuminate her as she really was: Wamphyri! Harry could be like her, yes, but did he need to be? He’d gone up against Dragosani, Thibor, Yulian Bodescu and all the others as a man, albeit a man with powers. No, never an ordinary man, but neither had he been a monster. And now there were others to set himself against. But again, as a man, or as nearly as possible.
He released her. ‘Is there a flyer ready?’
‘In the launching bay, yes. But won’t you use the Möbius route?’
He shook his head. ‘My son and his grey brothers wouldn’t see me. He might know, in his way, and he might not. Riding a flyer I’ll be visible, a curiosity. Not many flyers in Starside’s skies these days.’
At the launching bay, watching him take off in the saddle of the pulsing manta-shape which was his flyer, she saw that he was right: other than himself, the skies were empty. For now.
Feeling empty herself, Karen went back to her warriors…
Harry and Karen were together in the garden’s desolation when Shaithis and Shaitan the Fallen came back into the old Wamphyri heartland. But contrary to expectations the invaders did not launch an immediate attack; instead they came gliding and squirting out of dark, aurora-flickering northern skies, and oh so warily circled the debris-littered plains where the tumbled stacks of extinct vampire Lords lay in shattered ruin. Eventually, ever cautious, they landed in the bays of Karen’s aerie and explored its empty levels, finding nothing inimical, no hidden pitfalls, no hostile creatures waiting in the shadows. But neither did they find gas-beasts, siphoneers, servitors in any shape or form. No comforts whatsoever, except perhaps in the strength of the aerie’s ancient walls. And even these weren’t secure enough for Shaithis.
‘I was witness to the destruction of greater stacks than this one,’ he told Shaitan. ‘My own included!’
Two of them.’ The other chuckled, nodding his great black cowl. ‘It took both Harry Keogh and The Dweller to control the power of the sun that time. Can’t you see that? But there is no more Dweller — he’s gone, shrivelled to a wolf. And as for his father: why, on his own this pale unblooded alien is less than a puling child!’
‘Then why don’t we attack, and without delay?’
‘We do, but not until we’ve fuelled our beasts and filled our own bellies. Then, after we’ve rested our bones a little — and perhaps seen to other needs too long denied — that will be soon enough. For we’ve come a long, cold, weary way, Shaithis; and not merely to dispose of this hated enemy of yours, or to let you sate yourself on the flesh of a female who spurned and betrayed you. So calm yourself and be patient, and everything you most desire shall be.’
But for all Shaitan’s apparent confidence, deep in his black heart he, too, was concerned about their opponent, the so-called helllander Harry Keogh, a vampire who had not yet tasted the blood of other men. Unknown to Shaithis, the great leech which was his ancestor had already employed his own superior, infinitely furtive vampire powers in a remote, partial examination of the Necroscope. Shaitan’s telepathy was more advanced even than Karen’s and Harry’s (indeed, his was the maggot which had gnawed on Harry’s nerve-endings); even so, what probes he’d attempted had been perfunctory. The reason was simple: only penetrate the outermost shell of the Necroscope’s psychic aura — come within miles of the core of light, the unplumbed, emerging Centre of Power which he must never be allowed to become — and any sensitive being would feel it for himself. (As Shaithis might if he weren’t such a dullard; but such a beautiful dullard, and all wasted… for now, anyway.) That pent energy which was so much greater than that of a mere man, possibly greater even than that of certain vampires. But energy of what, from where? These were the questions which caused Shaitan’s concern; for until he knew what Harry Keogh was, or what he might become, he couldn’t really be sure how to deal with him.
Far easier, when the time was right, to deal with Shaithis the self-considered Devious — Shaithis the very beautiful, very dull, would-be Great Traitor — who would soon prove himself to be Shaithis the Great Fool. That same Shaithis who kept such a tight guard on his mind, lest its vile and treacherous thoughts fly free. Except, why, Shaitan had long ago made himself privy to his descendant’s thoughts, which were secret no longer!
But imprudent to fuss over all of that now; time enough when Starside’s weird, alien defender was dead or otherwise disposed of. Or perhaps earlier, but only if Shaithis himself should bring it to a head.
These were Shaitan’s thoughts, but all kept hidden from Shaithis, of course…
They left a lone warrior guarding the aerie and took the rest with them into Sunsid
e, where soon they spied the fires of a Traveller settlement. Then for a little while the night air was filled with the screams of men, the bellowing of warriors and the sounds of their gluttony; also with the hot reek of the freshly dead, and with the shrieks of those taken alive. Of the latter: there were six, and they were all women.
Later… the higher windows of Karen’s aerie came flickering alive with the ruddy light of fires; smoke went up from the chimneys; it was as if a great and merry party took place there. For vampires so long denied it was merry, anyway.
What battered, broken tidbits were left when Shaithis and Shaitan were done went to the warriors for sweetmeats. A small mercy that nothing of that ravaged flesh still lived…
In the garden, Harry and Karen slept.
The Necroscope still reckoned time in days and nights. As yet, when his mind told his body it was night, his body’s response was to sleep. But in any case his weariness would be as much mental as physical, for he knew that in any battle to come he would be fighting himself no less than the enemy. The problem, which always chased itself in circles until he grew tired, never changed: how to win without calling on his vampire for its assistance, without giving it full rein over the range of its powers? For to allow his leech total ascendancy would be to signal his own submission, following which he’d no longer be his own man but Wamphyri in every sense of the word.
Karen had no such problem: she already was Wamphyri! But before that she’d been woman, and the Necroscope was her man. When he slept, so did she, curled in his arms. They were not totally unprepared, however: they were clothed, and Karen’s gauntlet lay close to hand. And not unmindful of their position, they’d set a watch. A warrior grunted a little, shifting its hugely armoured bulk for comfort where it had been positioned in the shadows beyond the crest of the saddle; likewise Karen’s second beast, forward in the lee of the wall where the ground fell steeply away to Starside’s foothills and the plain beyond. As for the third creature: it was situated at a higher elevation, on a ledge under an overhang in the western crags, where its many night-oriented eyes peered far out across the boulder plains, searching the skies and starlit wastes for any unwarranted movement.
But unknown to the sleepers, there was a fourth, far less conspicuous watcher. Once known as The Dweller, now he was a lean grey shape who kept himself apart, observing the unkempt garden from the cover of the ragged treeline. Sometimes, in a flash of memory, he would understand why he had come here, but at others he wasn’t quite sure. Anyway, here he was.
And it was his snarled mind-call — together with a sudden bellowing and screaming of embattled beasts — which startled the Necroscope and his Lady awake when at last the invaders struck. And for all their precautions, still they were taken by surprise, for the enemy didn’t strike out of Starside at all but from Sunside over the mountains, where it was still sundown!
The invaders had departed Karen’s aerie in full force, crossed the peaks far to the east where there was no one to observe them, and turned west in the lee of the mountains. Under cover of the great barrier range, their Sunside flight path had followed the spine of the crags to the latitude of the garden where, rising up over the peaks to look down on the territory of the defenders, they’d carefully noted the locations of the warriors and the fact that nothing else was stirring. Then their probes had discovered Karen’s sleeping mind. As for the Necroscope’s mind: even asleep it had been shielded and impenetrable. And dreaming.
Harry dreamed that he sped down Starside’s future time-stream; his eyes were full of the dazzle of blue, green and red lines of life, and his ears seemed tuned to the unending Ahhhhhhhh! monotone of life’s expansion into all of the tomorrows of all the Universes of Light. Last time he had been with Karen, but this time he was alone, paying more attention to his surroundings, and aware of the convergence of scarlet vampire threads upon his own. And just when it seemed they must fuse together in some weird temporal collision, that was the point at which Möbius time turned golden in that furious melting-pot which terminated… everything?
Maybe not.
But that was when his dream terminated, and Harry sprang awake in the ruined Traveller dwelling which he and Karen had made their headquarters. And Karen, too, waking up in his arms.
The warriors!’ she gasped, expanding her hand to thrust it into the coarse-lined matrix of her gauntlet.
‘I’ll see,’ Harry answered, already on his feet and conjuring a Möbius door, which coincided with the doorframe of the stone-fashioned dwelling. And as he stepped through both, so he glanced at the sky. Up there, flyers! He saw them in the moment before the Möbius Continuum enveloped him: vast manta shapes pulsing on high, from whose saddles Wamphyri riders directed the attack of their warriors. But apart from warriors already landed and joined in battle with Karen’s creatures, there were several still airborne, squirting across the stars like aerial octopi, their vanes extended and propulsion orifices blasting. Three of them in a protective triangle formation around their controllers, but how many were already down?
Harry emerged from the Continuum at the back of the saddle. Karen’s guardian warrior was under attack from two lesser but incredibly ferocious beasts; one was underneath, pincers and sickles working to disembowel, while the other rode its back, biting a way through to the spine. Even metamorphic flesh must soon succumb to this!
Disengage, the Necroscope ordered. Get aloft if you can. Harass the enemy in the sky. In order to address the warrior, he had opened his mind.
Karen was in at once: I’ve launched the warrior from the ledge in the crags, she immediately informed him. He’s fast and fierce. If you can get that one airborne… Shaithis and Shaitan may well be disadvantaged. Their flyers are unconventional, heavily armoured, but still no match for warriors. Maybe we can knock the bastards out of the sky!
But now, in close proximity with the enemy, their thoughts were no longer private. Ho, Karen! Shaithis called down gleefully from on high. Ever treacherous, eh? Why, I do believe you’d damn me with your last breath. And so you shall, for I shall see to it! And to Harry, growlingly, As for you, helllander: ah, but I remember you well enow! For I had an aerie, upon a time — till you and your Dweller son reduced it to so much rubble. But where’s your son now, eh? A great wolf, I hear, siring pups by the light of the moon. Oh? Ha, ha, ha! And what bitch did you get him out of, eh?
Harry heard Shaithis’s sneering clearly enough; also Shaitan’s abrupt interruption, which oozed in his mind like mental slime: Taunting serves no purpose. Kill him by all means, when the time is right — but until then let it be.
The Necroscope’s vampire raged; it wanted its way; its demands on Harry were mental as well as physical, so that he could almost hear it screaming: ‘Give me the right! Let me smite them! Only give your mind and body to me, and in my turn I’ll give you… everything!’ But Harry knew it was a lie and that in fact his parasite would take everything.
He heard a buffeting of air, adopted a defensive crouch and glanced aloft. Karen was already airborne; Harry’s flyer, which she had sent, made a tight turn and descended towards him. As the creature’s fifty-foot span of membranous manta wing, spongy flesh, cartilage and alveolate bone swooped low overhead, Harry leaped and snatched at the harness fittings under its neck. Another moment and he was hauling himself into the saddle. And on the ground the beleaguered warrior threw off its attackers and squirted aloft.
Good! Harry told it. Now get up there with your ugly twin and help him tear those enemy flyers out of the sky.
Let’s all assist them, came Karen’s mind-call, as her beast commenced climbing a spiralling wind off Starside to where the invaders seemed to sit among the stars.
And rising up towards the armoured flyers of Shaithis and Shaitan within their arrowhead formation of hissing, throbbing warriors, Harry queried: Where’s our warrior number three?
Dead on the ground, Necroscope, Karen answered, grimly. Crushed by the most terrible construct I ever saw. In the old days, even to
conceive of such a beast would have meant automatic banishment. The old rule was simple: never bring to being anything which might prove difficult to put down. For even the feeblest brain will eventually learn tricks of its own. As for these things which Shaithis and Shaitan have devised — especially that one — why, can’t you feel their evil intelligence? They are abominations!
Harry looked all around in the sky, finally glanced down through a thousand feet of dark, empty air and saw what followed on behind. And: I see what you mean, he said.
What he saw was this: rising alongside Karen and himself, in the same section of the spiral, the warrior he had ordered aloft dripped fluids from an underbelly whose scaly armour had been breached. Plasma gouts gleamed red as a ruby necklace where metamorphic tissues were already at work healing deep neck wounds. For the present the warrior’s propulsors blasted as before, but Harry fancied he could detect a sputtering even now.
A little higher than he and Karen and climbing that much faster, the unscathed warrior she’d launched from the crags vented propulsive gases in a fury. It snorted like a dragon where it made an all too obvious beeline for the alien flyers and their riders overhead. Responding like monstrous automata to the threat, the trio of escorting warriors turned inwards and began to converge, lost a little height, then fell like stones with their vanes angling them towards their target.
All of this registered in a moment: the fact that here in the middle air and overhead, Karen and the Necroscope were already gravely outnumbered. As for the situation below, that was worse. The enemy warriors which had given Karen’s creature a mauling at the back of the garden had launched themselves into the same updraught and were gaining; and coming up even faster behind them was that destroyer of her third creature, which she’d described as the most terrible warrior she ever saw. No expert in such things, still Harry had to agree.