Bloodwars

by Brian Lumley

  Another prowler was at the massive gates; Krasin spoke to him briefly, and the three moved out into the pass.

  It was eerily quiet, so that even the whirring of a tiny bat’s wings sounded unnaturally loud before the creature sped away into the night. Then, with their torch-beams sweeping the way ahead, and following the scarcely recognizable trail along the scree-littered canyon floor, the three searchers gradually increased the distance between themselves and the keep - and the keep’s far greater store of firepower, of course .. .

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  .. .Which was precisely what Devetaki Skullguise wanted. And one hundred yards farther down the pass, behind a leaning boulder where she oh so patiently waited, that Lady uncloaked her telepathic mind (but just a little, the merest crack, and so revealed nothing of her true identity, but simply the promise of her presence). And:

  There!’ Alexei Yefros hissed. The locator went into a half-

  crouch and pointed with his torch, whose beam dispersed

  with distance and fell short of lighting up Devetaki’s hiding-

  place by some fifteen to twenty yards. As Tzonov and

  Krasin’s torch-beams joined in, however, the half-buried

  boulder stood out as a leaning, irregular blot against the j

  greater dark.

  ‘A rock?’ Krasin grunted.

  ‘A place to hide,’ Tzonov corrected him. And to Yefros: ‘I heard it, too, Alexei. And you are right, she’s there!’

  They moved forward, left the trail, clambered towards the

  boulder. As they went Tzonov called out in a low voice,

  ‘Siggi, it is I, Turkur. I heard your call and I’ve come for you.

  Don’t be afraid.’ But in the next moment … the female who

  emerged from behind the boulder certainly wasn’t afraid, ,

  and she most definitely wasn’t Siggi Dam! j

  The sight - the jolting shock -of her abrupt appearance

  in the glare of their converging torch-beams stopped all

  three men dead in their tracks. Her face froze them; its

  ‘smile’ was awesome. For the Mistress of Masquemanse was

  wearing her frowning half-mask. And while the leaden side

  grimaced, its counterpart grinned! And both of her eyes, in f

  the face and the socket of the half-mask alike, were red as

  clots of blood and glowed with an internal, an infernal fire!

  Krasin, in no way a believer, breathed, ‘Jesus!’

  Yefros, as his jaw fell open, gasped, ‘Not Siggi!’

  But Turkur Tzonov, cocking his machine-pistol, said

  simply, chokingly: ‘Wamphyri!’

  Devetaki was dressed in exoskeletal-styled battle-gear, all gleaming leather and sculpted, flexible cartilage. Her gauntlet looked alive on her hand, like a vicious spiny beast in its

  own right; and with her long legs, proud breasts and red hair flowing, she looked every inch a warrior queen of ancient Earth. It was a disguise, of course, the product of that metamorphic art which allowed all of the Wamphyri effortlessly to maintain a more or less human guise. But when threatened or gearing for action .. .

  … That same metamorphism was changing her even now. Into the monstrous destroyer which she really was! The great gape of her jaws, and the flickering bifurcate tongue which they housed; the quivering, bat-like convolutions of her flattened nose; the hellfire heat of her burning gaze! And the sickly mist pouring from her pores, and called up writhing from the riven earth, as if the pass itself were a tortured, living creature!

  Then, to add to the confusion of these three aliens in her world — aware of the mentalism of one of them, and the psychic prowess of another - Devetaki opened her own vampire mind all the way to hurl a gurgling, phlegmy thought at them:

  Fools! Why, I know what you would do even as you proceed to do it!

  Tzonov tested her anyway, pulled the trigger of his machine-pistol and sprayed the space where she had been -or tried to spray it. But his weapon was still on single-shot and fired off just one round, and in the moment that he fired it Devetaki had acted: a flowing, swirling dislocation of space that moved her like a wraith — as if she floated to one side without physical effort - back behind the boulder. So that Tzonov’s lone bullet scarred the rock, struck sparks from its flinty surface and did no harm at all, while Devetaki’s vampire mist swirled mockingly around his ankles, then his knees.

  Then: a vicious, mechanical ch-ching! as Krasin cocked his rifle and ran forward in a crouch to skirt the boulder, and his harsh, practised, authoritative cry of, ‘Flush the bitch out!’

  And Yefros’s terrified, stuttering squeal, ‘M-m-mother of

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  God - more of them!’ as his talent came into play and located other minds where suddenly they sprang into sharp focus. Thus, in a matter of minutes, both Tzonov’s locator and his military commander had called on deities in whom they had no faith, and who certainly would have none in them.

  Before Krasin could get close to the boulder and attempt to ‘flush the bitch out’, the psychic ether came leaping alive.

  Take them! And Tzonov scarcely needed eye-to-eye contact now; Devetaki had deliberately fired her order for all to hear … and especially Turkur Tzonov, to further increase his confusion. And you, creature - come, take me up!

  At which the darkness came alive, too!

  Something huge and grey, previously unnoticed, disguised by the night and a backdrop of rubble and jagged canyon walls, pushed itself upright on a nest of wormlike thrusters, arched its wings, stretched its neck and launched out and down from a sliding scree mound; a great manta shape drifting on the night air, angling for Devetaki’s boulder.

  Tzonov would line up his sights on the thing but was distracted by Yefros’s shrieking; likewise by Krasin’s curses and the deadly diatribe of his weapon; and in any case, Devetaki’s flyer was only one thing! Where to fire first for best effect? At the Lady, of course, if only she were visible. But in this clinging, sickly mist, in all this confusion, in the flitting shadows of more nightmare flyers, which even now soared overhead, blotting out the stars and drawing Krasin’s fire . ..?

  Tzonov found his voice at last, and in the temporary lull while Krasin slapped a fresh magazine into his rifle’s housing, shouted: ‘Back to the keep!’ His voice was hoarse, even terrified —

  - But the virgin grandam’s was fearless, full of a monstrous anticipation as she told him; Ah, no, my pretty!

  Briefly - so swift and sure in her movements that Tzonov barely had time to swing the muzzle of his weapon in her direction - Devetaki emerged again from hiding, sprang

  skywards and grasped the trailing trappings of her beast’s harness. It bore her away laughing into the mist and the darkness.

  Now Tzonov’s frantic gasping and cursing joined Krasin’s, and both were almost drowned out by Yefros’s woman’s shrieks as the night and more than the night pressed down on them. And the air of the pass seemed full of swooping motion. No, it was full of motion!

  No longer mere shadows, a pair of manta flyers came speeding along the bed of the pass, one out of the south, the other from the north. Eager figures leaned forward in their saddles; feral eyes gleamed yellow, and ivory teeth dripped saliva into red-ribbed caverns of horror.

  Yefros had made his way back to the trail. Arms and legs frantically pumping, the terrified locator was heading for the sanctuary of the keep, whose eye-socket windows and cliff-hewn balconies were lit up now in the yellow-flaring light of hastily fired torches. Viewed through Devetaki’s mist, however, the flickering golden fireflies seemed far away indeed - and much too far for Alexei Yefros.

  One of Devetaki’s lieutenant’s flyers had veered from Tzonov’s view into the deep shadows of the rearing east wall. The other, coming through the ‘tunnel’ of the pass from the north, was rapidly losing altitude, stalling, arching its membranous wings as it settled towards the running figure of Yef
ros. Like the grasping limbs of some unthink-ably huge carnivorous insect, or the feelers of a hideous, sentient anemone, a nest of worm-like thrusters was uncoiling from a belly cavity, palps quivering where they reached out after the unsuspecting locator. But as mount and rider went drifting by, fully intent upon their prey, so they presented Tzonov with a target he couldn’t miss.

  Falling to one knee, he took careful aim at the leather-clad back and side of the figure in the saddle .. .

  … And just a moment too late sensed rather than saw his own doom almost upon him!

  It came swooping from the shadows in the overhang of

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  the canyon wall - the flyer he’d lost sight of! And where its tapering neck joined a corrugated underbelly, a vast scoop lined with cartilage hooks was yawning open to receive him!

  Tzonov straightened up, swung his machine-pistol to face the threat, squeezed the trigger. With a rrrip of gunfire, hot lead was hurled into the gaping belly-pouch - but Tzonov might as well be firing at a jellyfish. He dropped his weapon, turned to run and felt the shadow of the flyer falling on him like a tangible weight as its head and long neck passed overhead.

  In the next moment the jutting, drooling lip of its pouch smacked into the back of his thighs between knees and buttocks, and he was folded and scooped up as easily as that.

  Before clammy, alien flesh closed on him, Tzonov had time for a single, hoarse, meaningless cry of protest. And the last thing he saw as the cartilage-barbed clamp of the pouch meshed shut, was the spastically kicking figure of Yefros snatched up and jerked aloft, his head and right arm lost in a writhing of greedy, triumphant claspers …

  Soldiers came running, the searchlight beams of their torches cutting swaths of white light through the thinning mist. Bruno Krasin heard their shouts and squeezed himself out from a clump of boulders where he’d taken shelter. Dusting himself down, he made stumblingly for the ancient trail, came face to face with one of his corporals.

  ‘Sergeant?’ The corporal glanced nervously all about, and his party took up defensive perimeter positions. But Krasin had seen everything that had happened and knew it was much too late for that sort of thing. Too late for Tzonov and Yefros, anyway.

  ‘Sergeant?’ the corporal said again. ‘What about Comrade Tzonov, and that thin fellow, Yefros?’

  Krasin realized how shaken he must look. He got a grip of himself, stood up straighter, and asked, ‘Did you see anything of it? Anything of … them?’

  Them?’

  Krasin nodded. Then you didn’t see anything.’ Perhaps it was for the best. He desired to command men, not leaning towers of jelly!

  ‘What happened?’ the corporal asked, as they set off back along the trail.

  Krasin paused, bent to pick up Yefros’s pistol from where the locator had dropped it, called back to the men in the rear, ‘Somewhere in those rocks there’s a machine-pistol. If you can see it, bring it in. If not, forget it. It will keep till morning.’ And to the corporal: ‘As for Comrades Tzonov and Yefros, I … don’t think you’ll be seeing them again.’ And he strode out for the keep.

  But in the next moment he paused again, half-turned and gripped the corporal’s arm, drawing him close. ‘If you should see them, however, you have my permission - no, my orders - to shoot on sight! For, you see, it won’t be them. It might look like them, but believe me it won’t be.’

  And there was a deep, deep shudder in Krasin’s voice that the corporal had never heard before …

  Back in the keep, Krasin fortified himself with several mugs of good American coffee, then held an O-group with his four NCOs.

  Tzonov and Yefros are gone,’ he told them. Taken by the creatures of this world. From now on, that’s how you will think of this place: as an alien world whose people can snatch you up just like they snatched them. Except that’s not how it’s going to be and we won’t be caught out again. But those two .. . were talented. Their minds were different from ours. I believe it’s what let them down, and lured them into an ambush.

  ‘Well, we’re talented, too - at living in the field and off the land, but especially at staying alive! Now, you’ve all been briefed; you know that this is a vampire world; you would have been sent here anyway, eventually, with or without Turkur Tzonov. And I would have been with you:

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  your beloved Sergeant Krasin, mother and father both, to look after you! Yes, and I know what my children need.

  ‘Now listen, the vampires of this world live on Starside. That’s north to you: that barren place where we left the Gate. They live there and can’t abide the sun, which kills them. So south is where we are headed. But if you ever want to get to Sunside, if you ever want to see its rivers, forests and game — and chase its wild Gypsy women - first you’ve got to live through one hell of a long night. Of which there are at least two “days” still to go!

  ‘Very well, at first light we move out, for as I’ve said, the sun will keep them at bay. But between times we have to be extra careful. For every man who sleeps I want one awake, on the lookout. And I don’t want anyone on his own. Drink all the coffee you like, but when you’re on duty stay awake and alert. They know we’re here now, and after talking to Tzonov and that snivelling Yefros - well, they’ll probably know all about us, too. But they’ll also know about our weapons.

  ‘Now I saw Tzonov fire point-blank at a flying beast, and I myself fired this weapon of mine into the bellies of several, but we didn’t nearly stop them. Not with a machine-pistol, no, nor even with a rifle. But I’m betting a grenade-launcher would stop just about anything they’ve got! And here’s something else to keep in mind: I fancy that while their flyers are just huge, dumb animals, their riders are — or were - men. If you knock them out of their saddles, its possible their mounts will run as wild as riderless horses.

  ‘Okay, that’s about it. Maybe they’ll come back and maybe they won’t, but if they do I want to meet them with force, let them know what they’re up against. They have their own special brand of hell, these bastards, but they haven’t seen ours yet, not by a long-shot . ..’ Finally, he paused. ‘Any questions?’

  A lance-corporal took something from a pocket, handed it over. ‘Feel the weight,’ he said. ‘It was buried in the dust and dirt of my billet. I found it under my sleeping-bag.’

  The thing was a bracelet an inch wide, eighth of an inch thick. And it was solid gold. ‘Yes, that too.’ Krasin nodded. ‘Gold is a common metal on Sunside. It’s one of the reasons we were coming here, before we were forced to come here. And it’s another reason to go on living. We won’t be marooned here. It won’t be long before others follow us through, or until we can return through the underground Gate. After all, it was Tzonov who was on the run, while we were only following orders. If we go home carrying our own weight in this stuff … you can stop worrying about being traitors. We’ll all be heroes!’ He looked from face to face. ‘Anything else?’

  But there was nothing.

  ‘Okay, let’s get the heavy stuff set up. Two machine-guns, a rocket-launcher, flamers, too. I want weapons on all the balconies, and nite-sites on that ribbon of sky overhead throughout. Let’s turn this place into a real fucking fortress!’ And to himself: We’ll have to, if we want to see it through until the morning/

  For Krasin knew he’d never be able to forget the ‘smile’ on the female’s face — how her flesh had flowed and changed — as she’d stepped into view from behind that boulder . ..

  … And she was only one of their women!

  Only? (Devetaki smiled, however, grimly where she ‘listened’ to Krasin’s thoughts from her vantage point, high on the rim of the canyon wall.) Only a woman, do you say? Well, a woman, I’ll grant you - but only? Hah/ Wamphyri, my alien friend, Wamphyri/

  But she liked Krasin for all that and considered him a man. Aye, and he would have made a fine lieutenant, too … and perhaps still would. But two out of three wasn’t bad —

  - Not for
starters, anyway . ..

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  V A Lady Schemes

  Devetaki, Vormulac and Zindevar arrived back in the lava flow heights within half an hour of one another, and eventually came together in a vast, horizontal shaft of a cavern which was once the extinct volcano’s blowhole or safety-valve, now the warrior-Lord’s temporary headquarters.

  Lord Unsleep and the Lady Zindevar seemed well pleased with themselves (or, in Vormulac’s case, and in the light of his perpetual melancholy, as ‘pleased’ as he’d ever seemed); the fires observed on Sunside had indeed proved to be the permanent camps of supplicant or fief Szgany … the ‘tithe’ they had paid this time had been in blood!

  ‘We took half.’ Vormulac dolefully detailed the outcome of his and Zindevar’s joint venture. ‘Half of everything, that is, including the people. They were docile enough, if a little surprised. Wratha and her lot weren’t due for three sundowns yet, but their Szgany supplicants thought we’d come out of the last aerie - or Wrathstack, as that fang out there on the plain of boulders is known — on some special collecting round. By the time they’d got it worked out that we weren’t a bunch of lieutenants out on a spree, and that in fact they couldn’t say who we were, it was too late. Even so, there was little or no resistance; Wratha, Canker, Gorvi and the Killglance brothers seem to have them well trained. There was no word of Vasagi, though, so it seems the Suck’s gone the way of all flesh. But there is a new Lord among them: a fellow called Lichloathe. Lord Nestor Lich-loathe of the Wamphyri - a necromancer, apparently!’