by Brian Lumley
‘But no, he merely wrinkled his nose at me, and his lieutenants did the rest…’
CHAPTER TWENTY Dark Lords Of Starside
Korath Mindsthrall was in Jake Cutter’s mind as surely as his own thoughts, so that rather than having the story related to him, it was as if Jake lived it.
And that’s dangerous, said Harry Keogh, ‘awakening’ Jake to his true position, in the wrecked sump of the deserted Romanian Refuge. Except that wasn’t the true picture (or his true location) either, for in fact he was only there by courtesy of Harry’s mind-link. Jake’s living, sleeping, dreaming body was airborne in a jetcopter flying east, somewhere over the Australian Simpson Desert.
‘Dangerous?’ Jake said, hugging his knees where he sat on a slab of concrete fallen from the ceiling, watching the black waters of the sump gurgling by. ‘What is?’
To let a vampire — even a dead one — get that deep into your mind, Harry answered darkly. That’s what’s dangerous. And I think our friend Korath is stretching things out a hit. But:
am telling it the way it was! (Korath’s Voice’ again, protesting). You have asked me to tell you about Malinari the Mind. How may I comply without describing his deeds, defining his wickedness?p>
Very well, Harry told him. That’s accepted. But I’m sure you can do it a little faster. Our time is limited here.
I shall do my best, Korath answered, grumblingly. But in any case, the rest of that night is a blur, for I had been bitten, vampirized by Malinari’s
lieutenants. The scenes… they all flow into one in the eye of my memory. Perhaps I desire to forget them, for what remains of them is… not pleasant. And the Vadastras were my people, after all.
Then he was silent for a moment or two, until in a little while he picked up the thread of his story…
‘The bite of the vampire brings about a weakness, a lethargy, a heaviness of limbs and thoughts alike. If Malinari himself had taken my blood — and in the process transfused something of his essence — then I would remember nothing at all until much later. But I was strong and his lieutenants were only thralls. Oh, they were powerful men, and each and every one an aspirant, but they were not yet Wamphyri!
‘Nadia and her mother, I saw them carried off towards the flyers while I reeled between the two who had recruited me. And Malinari, seeing that I was conscious, nodded his approval — of me, my strength, I suppose. But my senses were swimming as from drinking too much brandy; if one of his lieutenants had let go of an arm, I’m sure I would have fallen.
‘Then… I remember… or I seem to remember… Malinari’s voice raised, calling to my people, the entire Vadastra clan where they huddled at the far side of the clearing. “Come join me,” he called. “Eat, drink, partake of my tribute. For I shall free you of tyranny this night. This hated chief-this Dinu, of whom I’ve heard complaint — he is no more. Nor shall I require any more of you from now on. For I perceive that you have given enough. I free you, to be as you will, to do as you will, and to go where you will. Malinari has spoken… so let it be.” And his eyes burned brighter yet as he used his mentalism to reinforce his message, sending out his vampire thoughts to touch upon their minds.
‘And drugged though I was — or rather, tainted with the essence of vampirism which now flowed in my veins — even I saw the pictures that Malinari painted in the minds of the people. Indeed, I may even have seen them more clearly because of that essence; but by that selfsame token I knew that those pictures lied:
‘The glad bright faces of the young ones where they wandered hand in hand through the woods. The campfires where musicians played their bazouras and tambours; and meat roasting on spits while the menfolk clapped and young girls whirled in the dance. And wheeled caravans, trundling through the woods as of yore, bearing a people as free as the air; or at least free of Nephran Malinari, if not the rest of the Warnphyri. True travellers again, aye, in the forests of Sunside— ‘—And all a lie.
‘“Come, bring your cups,” Malinari cried. “Come drink with me, to your freedom!” And his men went among my people, leading them to the tables laden with tribute.
‘But supported between those who had converted me, with my poor sick head lolling this way and that, I saw how the strange dark cloud — that cloud of ill-omen — was settling towards the clearing, and how a ground mist was once more gathering in the earth.
‘As for my father:
‘It cannot be said that he had been a good man, but where he grovelled now under the sandalled foot of a brawny lieutenant… who can say what thoughts passed through his mind? One thing for sure: he knew Malinari for a great deceiver, and his mind-pictures for lies. Also, he knew that he was done for; or, in Malinari’s own words, that the “hated chief of the Vadastras was “no more”. Wherefore, what had he to lose? At least he might make a quick end of it.
‘Squirming free of the lieutenant’s foot, Dinu sprang up, pointed at the hovering cloud, and cried, “He brings his warrior creatures! He calls them down upon your heads! He destroys the Vadastras entire! Flee for your lives! Flee!”
‘Too late, for again Lord Malinari was employing his mentalism, and now his pictures told the truth:
Warriors circling in the shrouding cloud, held aloft on their fully-inflated gas bladders, extended air~scoop mantles, and spiralling updraughts from Sunside’s night forests. Now they channelled gas to their propukors, trimmed their mantles, came sputtering and issuing their poisonous vapours, descending towards the woods about the central clearing. And flanking them, controlling their tight aerial formation, a host of manta flyers, their eager thrall riders gauntleted to a man, and their purpose all too obvious!
‘The tithe? Hah! Don’t talk to me of tithes. Never such a tithe in all the history of Sunside. The tribute? But Malinari had come to claim the greatest tribute of all: an entire clan!
‘The people fled. Coughing, choking, sickened by the vile exhaust fumes of Malinari’s warriors, they fled for the forest… but again, too late. For the night was now a greater nightmare than ever. Hideous beasts were descending on the caravans and rude dwellings about the central clearing, flattening them to the earth. Vampire thralls slid down ropes dangling from the flyers. The people were surrounded. There was no escape!
‘And through all of this, that demon Lord’s laughter tinging out. And my father on his knees now, wringing his hands and asking, “But why, Lord, why? Tell me this is not of my doing.”
‘Above the thunder of raging warriors, the cries of lusting lieutenants and thralls, and the screams of the doomed people, Lord Malinari heard him. He swept back his robe, took his gauntlet from his belt and thrust his hand into it, answering, “Your doing? Yours, Dinu? Do you truly think that anything you could do would be of any moment in this world? Because you were devious, is that your meaning? No, you fool, nothing is of your doing! Why, there never was a supplicant chief in all Sunside — from here to the furnace desert — who was not an enormous liar and cheat! It is your nature, even as it’s mine.”
‘ “But Lord, if not to punish me, why do you do this thing? Towards what end…?” Dinu’s jaw had fallen open; his eyes were wide in a face that craved understanding. And:
‘“It is the provisioning,” Malinari told him. “But a great provisioning! My manse is a fortress where in times of peace we do well enough. But soon the peace will be ended. I am building an army, Dinu, and my needs are great. For in Starside a bloodwar is in the offing, and bloodwars are built on blood. In this case, yours.’”
‘With which he flexed his hand inside his glove, until all its hooks and blades stood out. And he cried out to his men and monsters: “Take the young and healthy alive as best you can. As for the children, the middling-old and the dodderers — they are fodder.” Then, to my father:
‘“And you, Dinu… alas, you’re middling-old.”
‘His gauntlet of bright metal made a downward-sweeping arc in the smoky firelight, then gleamed red — dripped red — where he held it up to the reeking night. Almost a
s red as his eyes.
‘And after that I saw no more…’
‘… Until I awakened in Malstack, my Lord’s manse in Starside.
‘Now, an aerie is an aerie, and all of them much alike. Or at least they were in the olden times. Since when it seems some terrible vengeance has visited itself upon Starside; for I have seen the cadavers of those same vast dwellings, like the skeletal spines of giants, lying sprawled and broken where they fell on the barren boulder plains. And only hollow stumps remaining, mute revenants of castles that once were mighty.
‘However, and in the time of which I speak:
‘The Mind’s manse stood far out on the plains, at the rim of that great clump of carven stacks, spires, and towers whereof the vampire Lords were wont to fashion their homes. Guarding its lower levels — in the scree jumbles at its foot, and in its high-walled, gantletted approaches — Malstack had many flightless warriors faithful only to Lord Malinari, who was after all their father. Lean and hungry, they were ever watchful.
‘Within: there were wells in the aerie’s basement, flabby siphoneers in the stubby turret of its roof, and in between all manner of levels to house Malinari’s men and monsters, his vats of metamorphism and other workshops, stables for his flyers and warriors alike, launching bays, barracks for the soldiers, kitchens, workplaces, and quarters for specialist thralls such as weavers, metal-and leather-workers, and even musicians. Music, aye! For The Mind had something of an ear for Szgany tunes. The stringed bazoura, with its swift, sweetly liquid notes, was like a balm to ease the pain of his troubled head. For his mentalism was all things to Malinari: a blessing and a bane. One thing to hear the mere voices of men — when you have the power to stop them with a command or simple gesture — but something else to hear their very thoughts, so clamorous loud in your mind that you must struggle not to hear them!
‘That was the curse of Malinari’s mentalism: that it was there whether he wanted it or not. That while giving it direction, controlling it, took a great effort of will, shutting out its generally useless babble — the tumult of an entire aerie’s thoughts — were almost impossible! And when the sun was up and the barrier mountains rimmed in gold, many a sleepless day for my master if not for the musicians who laved his mind with the songs of Sunside.
‘But I fear I have strayed. For I was speaking of Malstack and now have returned to Malinari. Or perhaps not, for this was what you wanted: to learn about The Mind and his ways. And anyway, and as I’ve said, an aerie is an aerie, and all much of a kind. Enough of Malstack.
‘So, what else can I tell you of my master as was? Let me think a moment…
‘His origins? Oh, yes, I know of them also. For with time, after I had proved myself as a thrall, rising through the ranks to become a lieutenant — and when during the bloodwars I became the first of his lieutenants — we got to be close, Malinari and I. Well, as close as master and slave can get. And upon a time, during a brief lull when we took respite in Malstack, I remember he said to me:
‘ “Do you know, but what is in the blood usually comes out in the flesh?”
‘To which I replied, “Master?”
‘“Your father,” he said. “Do you know how he became chief of the Vadastras?”
‘ “I was a child at the time,” I answered, “But yes, I remember. You made him the chief, my Lord.”
‘ “And do you know why?”
‘“I have no idea, Lord.”
‘“Several reasons. One: because he desired the job. Among Szgany supplicants it takes a strong man — a man with a strong stomach — to be a chief and give away his own people. Two: because he was big and insensitive and a bully born, which I suppose is much the same as one. And three: because Dinu was rare among men, one of a small number that I could bear to converse with. Or rather, with whom I conversed on a level, without concerning myself whether or no they lied, and so not caring.”
‘“I am trying to understand, master,” I told him, since it seemed he required an answer.
‘“I divine men’s thoughts,” Malinari explained. “When they think against me, then I am… angered. And when I am angered, then I lose good men. Wherefore it sometimes serves me well not to read them! And I tell you, I lied to your father when I told him that his devious ways were known to me. Suspected, perhaps, but never known for a fact, not until the night when that woman he’d used betrayed him. Not that it mattered greatly; the Vadastras were doomed anyway, fuel for my bloodwar. Let me make myself plain: your father’s mind was closed to me. As is yours.” ‘“Mine, Lord?”
‘“Indeed, for what is in the blood comes out in the flesh. You are heir to Dinu’s mental processes… your minds are much alike, so that your thoughts, too, are vague and shadowy things to me, which I read as through a writhing mist. Oh, I could get to them more directly; should we say, by contact:3 With the very brain that holds them? For, as you are surely aware, these fingers of mine are especially gifted in their own right. Alas, but that would probably mean the
loss of yet another good man. That is a luxury which I cannot afford.”
‘“No, Lord,” I said, and I admit I backed off a pace. “No, indeed, Lord!”
‘But Malinari merely tut-tutted and shook his head, then winced and twitched a little as was sometimes his wont, saying, “No, no! Have no fear, Korath. For while the rest of this manse of mine is filled with men and creatures — creatures with minds that make noise and babble and uproar in my bead, even when all else is silent! — you seem as empty as those great dark spaces out between the stars. Oh, yes, and I like you for it.”
‘Then in the privacy of my master’s chambers, we would sit and listen to his music together — and I would try my best not to think…’
‘He told me of his beginnings.
‘His father was Wamphyri: Giorgas Malin, who sniffed out even the craftiest of the Szgany by tracking the aura of their fear. He wasn’t a mentalist as such — he read no minds — but he was sensitive to sentience, and knew when intelligent, fear-filled minds were close by. He sensed the shuddering and trembling of the very brains of his prey, even when they themselves were still and silent. Wherefore Sunside’s nomads feared Malin worse than any other Lord; for despite their skill at cloaking their thoughts, he was usually able to discover them. In short, his talent had been similar to that of his son. Indeed, it had been the source of Malinari’s mentalism.
‘Or it was one of the sources. For, of course, Malinari was right: what’s in the blood will out in the flesh. But it takes two to make a bloodson, a vampire born of woman, and The Mind’s mother was a Szgany healer, whose power was in her hands. Do you understand the principle? She could cure the sick and the fevered by holding them, stroking them, by balming them with her lullabies and her loving touch. Ah, but I see that there are such in your world, too… faith healers, yes. And I also see that some are fakers, here as in my world. But Illula was the real thing.
‘So, hunting in Sunside one night Giorgas found Illula the Healer — who had no man, for she had given her life over to her calling — and saw that she was beautiful. He had heard of her; the Wamphyri had their spies in Sunside, and little escaped the notice of the Starside Lords. However, there was no requirement for a healer in Giorgas’s manse or in any of the aeries, for common ailments were unheard of among the Wamphyri, whose systems are so imbued with evil that lesser evils can gain no foothold. I exclude, of course, the various mutations, autisms, metamorphisms and madnesses with which the Great Vampires were ever afflicted, if afflicted is the right word. For apart from lunacy — oh, yes, and leprosy, the so-called “bane of vampires” — these other conditions were rarely considered illnesses at all; they were simply facts of life and longevity. For where men in their old age are prone to aches and pains, vampires in theirs are prone to all manner of weirdness.
‘At any rate, while Illula’s skills were of little use to Giorgas, her beauty — not to mention her virginity, which was a rarity in females of an age, even in Sunside — was a sure fasci
nation. And of course he had the latter from her, then had her to wife. Yes, for Giorgas wanted sons to manage his aerie, and where better to get them than from a handsome woman? According to Lord Malinari, his sire was not without good looks himself; which perhaps accounts for The Mind’s darkly handsome appearance.
‘Ah, but the rare combination of Malinari’s parents’ talents accounted for a lot more than his merely physical attributes…
‘So, Illula the Healer was vampirized, and of course suffered the sleep of change. When she awakened, she was Wamphyri! And Giorgas’s manse now had both master and mistress. But if men should be careful in choosing their wives, how much more careful in the making of vampires? Especially Great Vampires.
‘Anyway, Illula was Wamphyri, and a deal of Giorgas’s essence was circulating within her; even the first nodes and
filaments and foetal foulness of a parasite leech, gathering to her spine to suck on its marrow. That is ever the way of it. But as if to compensate for such depredations, the burgeoning vampire invariably accentuates the senses of the initiate. Not only the five mundane senses, but also — when such enhancement is of benefit to the parasite — any additional senses…
‘Illula and Giorgas shared a bed and, of course — being his wife now and a Great Vampire in her own right — she clung to him through long Starside days, when the spires of the tallest aeries glowed golden in the seething rays from Sunside. And when her Lord started or moaned in his sleep (for even the most terrible of the Wamphyri are prone to nightmares, and some even more so, which usually spring from memories of their own conversions or initiations), then she would employ her healer’s hands to soothe his brow and her soft-crooned lullabies to drive away whichever terrors invaded his dreams. But in the twilight before the night — when despite her ministrations he would come awake showing little or no benefit from his rest — then Illula would be nonplussed; and Lord Malin, he would laze around Malstack as if suffering from a crippling malaise… which he was. And she was it.