by Brian Lumley
Harry sensed his unease, and asked, Are you all right?
‘No,’ Jake answered. “And I don’t think I’ll ever be all right again.’
You will lie, the other told him. You have to be. Anyway, we still aren’t through here. I want to know more about Szwart — what he is and how he came to be — and I think Korath knows it all. But I sense that he’s slowing up, holding back
To which Korath immediately replied, And you are correct! For it dawns on me that I do myself no good here. When you have learned your fill, what then of me? No forgiveness, shunned by the living and the dead alike, washed away to nothing and dispersed across an alien land? Hah! Surely I can do better.
You are dead, said Harry. These things are what happen to the dead, in circumstances such as yours.
And Korath answered, Ah, cold, cold!
No, said Harry, not entirely. Merely truthful. I won’t lie to you that there’s anything in this for you. Only our company, for however long it lasts.
But Korath said:
Yet your dead converse! I know, for I have heard them whispering in their graves. When they sense me listening, then they keep quiet or exclude me. So why can’t they converse with me?
They don’t like you, said Harry. Can you blame them? Being dead, they hate death. And they know that you thrived on it! -
I did what vampires do. Is there no pity?
For you, none.
Then I have none for you! Korath sulked. You dare to go up against Vavara, Szwart, Malinari? Without knowing all there is to know about them? Good luck to you. You are dead men and may think of me again some time, when you lie broken or drained, or minced into warrior feed. Then perhaps you’ll wish we had spoken at greater length, but too late. Until that time you’ll hear no more from me. He fell silent. But:
You have no idea how weary I am of all your bluff and bluster, Harry told him. What do you expect of me? What can I possibly do for you? You are dead, Korath!
You, too, Korath answered. And yet you have mobility, companionship… a future?
My case is different, said Harry. And as for the future, I never underestimate it.
And Jake’s case? His future?
There was a slyness in Korath’s deadspeak voice, and Harry didn’t like it. He wondered if he detected some hidden innuendo, or more likely some kind of threat. Jake is a dreamer, he said. Right now he is no more and no less. He’s my apprentice, if you like, and for the moment knows very little about such things — but he will learn. And:
‘Huh!’ Jake snorted. ‘Even if I don’t want to, it seems!’
Yessss, said Korath. And I can feel your apprehension. But still Harry is right and you should… learn. If not from him, then perhaps from me?
Harry was at once alarmed. You know what we want from you. And that’s all we want. So what’s it to be Szwart’s origins?
(Harry’s deadspeak nod). And more about Malinari’s bloodwar — how you survived the Icelands, and how finally you came here.
Korath sighed and said, Very well For I am forgiving, even if you are not.
He was silent for a moment, then sighed again and said: The rest of it, then…
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Survivors
‘I can’t swear to Szwart’s origin/ Korath commenced the final chapter of his story. ‘I can only repeat what I heard of him in the service of my master, Malinari of Malstack, all those years ago. And of course I can report what I have seen of him, for he was after all Malinari’s co-conspirator, along with Vavara, and shared with them in their banishment when they were whelmed by the forces of Dramal Doombody…
‘As for Szwart’s “visit” to Lord Stakis’s Narkslump: while that had occurred as a prelude to the actual hostilities, obviously it was an important factor in the heightening tension between the soon-to-be-warring parties. I recall that soon after Narkus’s demise, as angry rumblings from the aeries grew louder, Malinari arranged the latest of several get-togethers with his future partners, Vavara and Szwart.
‘By then, when they ventured abroad from their respective stacks, all three “outsiders” — rejects, as it were, excluded or ostracized by the rest of the Wamphyn — were constantly on the alert for trouble: the imposition of restrictions over disputed airspace, skirmishes over boundaries, even ambushes were by no means unlikely. But since by chance their stacks formed a close triangle in the centre of the clump, and the space within that triangle was theirs, flights between were generally accomplished without threat or interruption. And of course the close proximity of their aeries was yet another good reason for forming their alliance: back to back, they presented a more formidable foe.
‘Anyway, Szwart and Vavara came on flyers across the respective gulfs from Darkspire and Mazemanse, to meet with my master in Malstack. And that was the first time that I saw Szwart. For contrary to certain Szgany campfire tales of the time, Lord Szwart was visible when he so desired. In any reasonable degree of light, and when he chose to assume an acceptable form (which invariably cost and, indeed, still costs him no small effort of will) he could be seen, though he much preferred not to be. But in his condition… well, that was surely understandable.
‘But I sense that I’ve whetted your curiosity; you are wondering what “condition” I speak of, and what do I mean by “acceptable form”? We shall get to these things.
‘So then, Lord Szwart came from Darkspire, and I was sent to bid him welcome to Malstack and organize the stabling of his flyer, just as I had seen to Vavara’s when a little earlier she had arrived from Mazemanse, her castle of vertiginous balconies and fretted, spindly spires.
‘I remember the time was several hours past sundown, when only the last faint rays of a dying sun limned the peaks of the barrier mountains in gold. This vestigial glimmer posed no real threat to the Wamphyri in general (even at noon the deadly rays probed only the uppermost spires of Starside’s tallest aeries), but it was a problem for Szwart, who dreaded to be seen. ‘And there we have it:
‘Lord Szwart’s fear of light wasn’t that it might destroy him but that it made him visible.’ This weird photophobia wasn’t so much a physical as a mental disability. Which perhaps serves to explain his reclusive nature: his rumoured celibacy, and the fact that he so rarely went abroad from his aerie (and then only into Sunside, to hunt) and never mingled with other than his thralls or creatures of his own device in lonely, shadow-cursed Darkspire.
‘But it wasn’t only in his mind, this ugliness that Szwart
couldn’t bear to display. It wasn’t merely imaginary. Rather it was very real, and hereditary…
‘He arrived in a Malstack landing bay. His flyer was black as night; swooping across the gulf it had been clearly visible, but in the shadow of Malstack it simply disappeared. I stood in the gape of the landing bay, waiting — and suddenly Szwart was there! A black shape buffeted night-black air in my face as the shadows that were Szwart and his flyer alighted. Then, while he dismounted, I called for thralls to see to his beast. And looming close, Szwart said:
‘“You, lieutenant — take me to Malinari.”
‘His voice was a gasp, a pant, a flurry of wind through a narrow crevice. And there he was, Szwart himself, all cloaked in black — a blot of a figure that showed neither features nor anything else of its once-humanity — standing before me in the flickering torchlight of the landing bay!
‘But while Szwart himself was featureless, carved from jet, and his voice a flutter of bat-wings, his presence was awesome; as solid as the great rocks on Starside’s barren boulder plains. And his aura in the night: that was such as to make even my vampire flesh creep — and I was a lieutenant! So that I could well understand how Narkslump’s lowly thralls had felt when confronted by Lord Szwart.
‘He gloomed at me through eyes like slits of fire, his only parts that weren’t black. “Well? And am I to be left to find my own way?” For I was so startled, I had made no effort to attend him!
‘“No, Lord,” I answered. “I am your guide. But here in Malst
ack, protocol demanded that I stood silent until commanded by you.”
‘ “Fool!” he said. “I did so command you! And now take me to Malinari! Or perhaps I strike you as… odd in some weird way? Is it so?” With which he flowed closer, and his outline became less manlike, even more a blot or a shadow, like a lump drifted from the darkness in the unlit deeps of Malstack’s basement.
‘“Not at all, Lord!” I backed off. “I was simply in awe of my master’s honoured guest — so much so that my tongue clove to… to the roof of my… of my mouth.” It was scarcely a lie!
‘ “You must consider yourself fortunate that you still have a tongue,” Szwart whispered, withdrawing something that was not quite a hand from where it had been reaching for me. “Also fortunate that my protocol forbids the killing of an ally’s lieutenant on his home ground.”
‘ “Yes, Lord!” I bowed, and before things could go even more awry turned and forced my numb legs to bear me in the direction of my master’s chambers. Lord Szwart followed on behind me, and I could feel him there, silent, intense, and seething; though I fancied it wasn’t his thoughts that seethed so much as his person! Perhaps it was so. I can’t rightly say, for I never looked back…
‘When Szwart left I was there to see him go, though on this occasion there was no contact. When the keeper of Malinari’s pens handed him the reins of his flyer, I was situated in a window a little higher in the sheer wall of the aerie. From there I watched him mount, launch, and fly away.
‘Aye, and I also saw his manlike outline melt to a liquid blot of a shape that hunched down and became one with the silhouette of his black flyer. And I saw the burning eyes — but far too many eyes — that gazed back on Malstack from that hideously humped shape, as if their owner suspected that someone watched!
‘Then he was off, and flyer and rider both, black on black, disappeared into the yawning gulf like a scrap of burned cloth, or a tattered pennant slipped from its staff, fluttering on the winds that whine around the aeries of the Wamphyri…’
‘That same time:
‘Having seen Szwart off from Malstack’s lofty premises, I returned to my master and the luminous Vavara — the very opposite of Szwart — where they continued to talk in Malinari’s private chambers. In his absence, Szwart had become the subject
of their conversation. Hearing his name mentioned, and because my interest had been piqued, however morbidly, I slipped back into the shadows and listened.
‘ “It was in his blood,” Malinari was saying (so that I knew what next he would say), “and what is in the blood always comes out in the flesh — or in Szwart’s case, what passes for flesh!” And he went on to explain:
‘“Seventy years ago — a little before your time, Vavara — Szwart was born to a Lord and Lady of the Wamphyri. That alone would make him an exception to the general rule. For as you are well aware, when the time is right the Wamphyri transfuse their eggs to make egg-sons or — daughters; or we take Szgany women — er, forgive me, or men — and so beget blood-children. But it’s rare that a Lord will take a Lady to wife, or vice versa. Rarer still where Lord Szwart is concerned, whose father was also his mother’s brother!
‘ “Incest? — not so strange among the Wamphyri. But incestuous marriage, between twins?
‘ “To find a reason you must look back in time, but not too far. Szwart’s grandsire, his blood-grandsire, was cursed with a certain disorder which our kind don’t care to mention. Oh, as a skill — a fearsome talent — we mention it with pride! But when it runs amok, then it becomes wnmentionable. Metamorphism, aye. But note, my voice is hushed. Such matters are not to be spoken of lightly.
‘ “Before he knew that this weirdest and most loathsome of diseases was upon him, Lord Szwart’s grandsire got twins out of a Szgany girl. Brother and sister, they grew up in their sire’s aerie — Mittelmanse as it was then, named for its proximity to the centre — and ascended. They were Wamphyri!
‘ “By then their father’s curse was known to all and sundry: he had practised his metamorphic flux beyond reasonable bounds, putting too great a strain on a leech which finally rebelled or went insane. Whichever, his flesh was out of control. Once in a thousand years this will happen: that instead of remaining symbiont and host — two mutually dependent creatures in one body — the flesh of both mingles, and a resultant Thing emerges as a mindless, loathsome hybrid.
‘ “But the process was a slow one; the Lord of Mittelmanse was not immediately a madman, and knew as well as his children what was happening to him. The horror of it played on his mind; as his flesh gradually succumbed, he would come shrieking awake from nightmares, to find his limbs like ropes draped all about his room.’ Or he would wander abroad in his sleep, to trap and convert his own loyal thralls by means of absorption and assimilation. Instead of the blood, whole bodies were the life.’ And he grew gross, when at times his flesh was soft as mud, and at others horny and corrugated. And even his colour was changed — no longer that of undead flesh but the mottled and leprous hue of the leech.
‘ “And when he was lucid he made his children promise that they would not spread this thing abroad. Great Vampire that he was and malicious, still he would not wish this on another man or creature. For he knew what was in his blood, and in theirs, and that given the opportunity it would out. Wherefore it must not be given the opportunity…
‘“The twins, grown up now, planned to put their father in a pit; for according to the lore or history of Starside — what little has ever been recorded — that was usually the best way. Or they could kill him out of hand, by trapping him in an inescapable place and setting fire to him, before he became totally ungovernable.
‘ “But it didn’t come to that. Fond of flying, he formed an airfoil and flew out upon the gulf one night. This involved, of course, a great effort of will — which he relaxed, perhaps deliberately, high over the boulder plains. And Thing that he was, his immediate devolution into something less than airworthy was instantly fatal. He fell like a stone, and even protoplasm will only stretch so far.
‘ “So much for him.
‘ “His sibling children made a pact: they would not go with others to spread the curse abroad but cleave to each other, and so keep the thing to house. And all the while, year after year, they lived in fear that it might be in them, too — which indeed it was. But because they kept their flux under strict rein, and used it sparingly, the curse skipped their generation — only to emerge in the next!
‘“It came out in the young Szwart, aye. Having been suppressed in his parents, the vampire essence they passed down to Szwart was of an entirely different order. How best to explain? When a man is born blind, his remaining senses may develop more fully in order to compensate for the loss. In Szwart’s parents, the normal functions of their vampire leeches had been suppressed — which served only to magnify the essence that they passed down to Szwart!
‘“Szwart’s will has kept him sane within limits, but he is a totally devolved creature. He sleeps alone, to ensure that no bloodson of his will carry this thing into the future. His ugliness is such that men might easily go insane if they saw him in the worst of his myriad… designs. Tonight he maintained something of a manlike outline in order to be here with us, but normally he can’t bear to be seen, which is why he shuns light and companionship. This last is no great hardship; we Wamphyri were ever loners. But let any man speak out against him as a freak — or shrink from the horror of him — it’s as if his phobias were reinforced. And despite that he knows his ugliness well enough, knows the truth of it, still he will kill the offender, if only because his action or reaction reminded him of his infirmity.”
‘And Vavara said, “Yet you say he’s not mad?”
‘“Not yet,” Malinari told her, “Though it must come eventually. Perhaps in a hundred years, or fifty, or maybe less. But he was here tonight; you saw him; he reasons.”
‘ “I have seen him, yes,” Vavara answered. “And his reasoning is as warped and fluctuating as hi
s flesh! He looked like a mad thing to me, or close enough.”
‘“Have it your own way,” my master told her. “But if he is a mad thing, then for the moment he’s our mad thing. Also, he’s the Lord of Darkspire, commander of men and monsters, and Darkspire guards our flanks…”
‘Then for a while they were silent, until Vavara inquired: “What of his parents, the incestuous twins?”
‘“Szwart was born beautiful and seemed perfect,” Malinari answered. “At seventeen he ascended. And at eighteen his father found him in Darkspire’s Desmodus colony, hanging with the bats from the fretted ceiling — but hanging in flaps and folds, like a blob of dough such as the Szgany use when baking their bread! In his gluttony, he had absorbed a great many bats before falling asleep.
‘ “Father and mother both, they tried to trap and burn him. He trapped and burned them! So the story goes. My advice: never treat Szwart with disdain because he is not pretty. And as for his quirks: we are Wamphyri and we all have quirks — even you, Vavara, or so I’ve heard it rumoured. But with the exception of our mutual enemies, no one takes us to task over our little… idiosyncrasies? As for Szwart, who is our ally: neither slight nor scorn him. And don’t underestimate him, either
Korath had been silent for some little time. Perhaps he brooded on the past. Whatever, Harry prodded him with a thought:
Korath? And he responded with a grunt:
Huh?
My time fare grows short now, (Harry’s deadspeak voice was faint and wavering) and Jake isn’t far from waking. We’ve come a long way, in more senses than one, but we’re by no means finished. When I go, your contact with Jake goes with me. Then you will be alone. If you ever want to hear from us again — for who knows? We might yet find some mutual benefit in renewed contact — then you’d fast get on with your story. But make it as brief as possible. Here’s how it goes: