Deathstalker d-1

by Simon R. Green

  Tall trees crowded together on either side of a narrow earth path, the thick foliage so dark a green as to seem almost black. An umber glow fell down past the trees in long shafts of dust-filled light. There was a thick, solid smell of earth and mulch and growing things. Owen got as close to the opening as he could without actually passing through it, and strained his eyes against the gloom to see how far back the trees went, but there seemed no end to them. The others crowded in behind Owen, murmuring quietly to each other. There was something about the forest that demanded quiet and respect, like a living cathedral.

  "Well?" Owen said finally to Giles. "Was this here the last time you were here?"

  "Oh, yes," said the original Deathstalker. "I remember this. It's a sanctuary the Wolflings built for themselves, terraforming it out of the cold rock. What more would wolves need than a forest to run and hunt in?"

  "Is it safe?" said Owen.

  "How should I know?" said Giles. "A lot could have changed in the nine hundred and forty-three years since I was last here."

  "Great," said Owen. "Wonderful. All right, pay attention everyone. Anybody else feel like leading the way? No? I didn't think so. Follow me, then. Hazel, you tuck in right behind me and keep that big gun of yours at the ready. Let's try and be calm about this, people, but feel free to blast large holes in anything that looks dangerous. This doesn't strike me as safe territory. Something here is tugging at my instincts and putting my nerves on edge. Everyone stay close, but don't crowd each other. And don't go off on your own under any circumstances. I think this could be a really unfriendly place to be lost in. When we meet the Wolfling, remember we're guests here, so mind your manners and watch the bad language."

  "He really does like making speeches, doesn't he?" said Ruby.

  "It's part of his charm," said Hazel.

  "What charm?"

  "Precisely."

  Owen didn't look back at them. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He checked his sword and his guns to be sure they were ready to hand, and stepped through the doorway. The heat hit him like a smothering blanket, and he almost stopped, but he made himself go on. The rich dark smell of the forest was almost overpowering, and the heavy heat brought sweat to his face that evaporated almost as fast as it formed. The bare earth path was firm under his boots, but not level, and he didn't need to be told that no machinery had ever traveled this route. Owen kept walking, doing his best to appear casual and totally at ease, just in case anyone was watching. The light in the forest was dim and slightly diffused, as though a very fine mist filled the air. Owen glanced back to make sure the others were still with him, and almost missed a step as he saw the forest stretching far away behind him, till it disappeared into its own gloom. The open door stood alone in the middle of the trail, with only a glimpse of the silver plain to be seen through the doorway, like a glimpse of another world. As he watched, the great metal door slammed shut with a quiet, emphatic thud.

  "Ever get the feeling that someone's trying to tell you something?" said Hazel.

  "I think we can safely assume someone knows we're here," said Owen. "Which is just as well. I have a strong feeling we're not going to get very far around here without a friendly guide."

  "I don't like the idea of our retreat being cut off," said Random. "Our only way back to the Standing is via the transfer portal, and that's on the other side of the door, which I will lay good odds we won't be able to open."

  "He has a point," said Owen. "I don't even know how it opened from the other side."

  "We could blast it," said Ruby.

  "Yeah," said Hazel, hefting her heavy gun with great enthusiasm.

  "Let's keep that as a last option," said Giles. "We're supposed to be here as friends, remember? If we follow this trail, it should lead us to the Wolfling. Lead on, Owen, and try not to step on anything delicate."

  "Hold it," said Ruby. "Can anyone tell me what's wrong with this picture?" They all looked around them, and then back at Ruby. She smiled briefly. "The quiet. No birds, no movement, even the air is still. Apart from the trees, I'd say we're the only living things here."

  "Of course," said Giles. "This isn't a real forest. It's an artificial construct the Wolflings built to make themselves feel more comfortable. Those aren't real trees, anymore than this is real sunlight."

  Owen frowned. "You mean these trees are fakes?"

  "Oh, they're real enough. Alive, too, just artificial. How else do you think they've survived down here all these centuries?"

  Owen decided he wasn't going to ask any more questions. He didn't like the answers he was getting. He set off down the path, and the others followed him. They walked for a while in silence, the soft thudding of their feet on the packed earth barely enough to disturb the quiet. If anything, the air seemed to be getting hotter. Owen didn't know whether to feel relieved or not. Before coming down, he'd asked Ozymandius how cold it was likely to be in the depths of the planet, and the AI's answer had not been at all reassuring. Apparently the Standing's sensors didn't normally record readings that low anywhere apart from deep space. Cold with a capital C, the AI had said. Better wear your woolly underwear. However, once Giles had activated the transfer portal, the snip's sensors immediately registered a rise in the temperature to acceptable levels in the portal's immediate vicinity. Which suggested that not only was someone or something still running the systems down below, but that someone or something now knew they were coming. Owen just wished they'd turn the heating down a notch. And then he rounded a corner in the trail and came to a sudden halt as he saw exactly what was waiting for him.

  His first response was to grab for his disrupter, and he only fought the impulse down with an effort. The tall figure standing motionlessly some way ahead was most possibly the most dangerous thing he'd ever seen in his life, including the aliens of the murderous jungles of Shandrakor. The others piled up behind him, but apparently one glimpse over his shoulder was enough to convince them that they didn't want to get any closer either.

  The figure had a man's shape, but it didn't stand like a man. Easily eight feet tall, its broad shaggy head had a definite lupine shape. Intimidatingly wide shoulders swelled out into a barrel chest that plunged into a long, narrow waist. The figure was covered in thick golden fur from the top of its long-eared head to the large paws that served as its feet The legs curved back like a wolf's, and something in the way the figure stood suggested it would be just as happy running on four legs as two. The furred hands had long, jagged claws, and long teem gleamed a dirty yellow in the grinning mouth. The eyes were the most disturbing feature. They were large and intelligent and almost overpoweringly ferocious. The rebels had found the Wolfling. Or he had found them.

  Owen licked his suddenly dry lips and couldn't make himself move his hand away from his gun. The Wolfling was standing as though he might attack at any moment, and Owen had no doubt it would take a damn sight more than his sword to stop him. Giles had called the Wolfling the ultimate predator, a genetically designed killing machine, and now that he'd seen him, Owen agreed completely. Just standing there he was a threat, only an impulse away from an unstoppable killing rage, and everything from his savage glare to his viciously clawed hands marked him as a wild and uncontrollable force. He growled softly, and all the hair on Owen's head tried to stand up. Owen swallowed hard. Beyond trying to shoot the beast, he was at a loss for what to do. Apart from a suicidal urge to walk up to the Wolfling, pat him on the head and say "Nice doggy!" He pushed that thought aside very firmly as the Wolfling growled again, and he glanced back over his shoulder.

  "Giles," he said, very quietly and calmly. "I think he wants to talk to you."

  The original Deathstalker pushed his way through the others to stand at Owen's side. He bowed formally to the creature before him and smiled easily. "Hello, Wulf. Been a long time, hasn't it?"

  "Not long enough," growled the Wolfling. His words were low and harsh, but not especially threatening. "Every time you come here, you bring me trouble. What
bad news have you brought this time?"

  "The Empire is right behind us," said Giles. "They want the Device, and to hell with what it costs them. I mean to get it before they do. That means going through the Maze. Which means we're a little pushed for time. Will you help?"

  "Always time to greet old friends," said the Wolfling, grinning easily. It was not a pleasant sight. He moved forward with sudden grace and embraced the Deathstalker, the large man almost lost in the great furry hug. They laughed together, and the Wolfling released him. He studied Giles with his head cocked on one side. "You said you'd be back someday, but after nine hundred years I'd almost given up hope. Damn, boy, it's good to see you again. But I see you have company. Introduce us, and I'll decide whether or not to eat them."

  He grinned his unnerving grin again as Giles made the introductions. Owen assumed the Wolfling had been joking, on the grounds he found it too worrying to believe otherwise. Hazel bobbed her head politely, but kept her gun trained on the beast. Ruby didn't even bother to be polite. Random smiled warmly, and even shook the clawed hand without missing a beat. Presumably in his time as rebel leader he'd learned to be diplomatic with all sorts of allies. The Wolfling and the Hadenman just looked at each other for a long moment, and then looked away, as though they'd decided to call it quits for the time being. Owen wondered what the two artificially created beings thought of each other; two bastard sons of man's ingenuity. Jealousy, perhaps?

  When his time came, Owen made himself shake the Wolfling's hand. It wasn't as bad as he'd thought; it was just like shaking a hand in a very thick glove. As long as you didn't look at the claws. They were long and thick, the deep yellow coated with dark smudges that might have been dried blood, or might not. Owen decided he wouldn't ask. Up close, the towering beast smelled heavy and rank, a strong animal scent that lifted the hairs on the back of Owen's neck again in a pure atavistic response. He smiled bravely and let go of the Wolfling's hand as soon as he properly could. The beast turned back to Giles.

  "He's your kin, Giles. The smell of your blood is strong in him. What will you and he do with the Device once you have it again? Use it against your enemies, or destroy it?"

  "We haven't decided yet," said Giles. "For the moment, we think it important simply to keep it out of other hands. Is it still safe and secure in the Maze?"

  "How would I know? I haven't looked at the damned thing since you teleported it into the middle of the Maze all those centuries ago."

  "Weren't you ever curious?"

  "No. Not in the least. I would have destroyed it the first moment I set eyes on it I saw what it did to you, after you used it."

  "Take us to the Maze, Wulf," said Giles. "We haven't much time."

  "What about the Tomb?" said Tobias Moon. "You promised you would take me to it."

  The Wolfling looked at him thoughtfully. "There are many of your kind waiting in their Tomb. Have you come to waken them at last?"

  "Yes," said Moon. "Our time has come. The Hadenman will walk forth upon the stage of Empire once again."

  The Wolfling nodded slowly. "Well, you certainly sound like a Hadenman. More aristocratic than God and twice as arrogant I'd wish you luck, but why tempt the fates? But as a word of caution and warning, would you like to see what remains of my race? It's really very instructive."

  He turned away without waiting for any answer and padded off down the earthen path. He moved quickly, with surprising grace for his size, and the others had to hurry to keep up with him. The Hadenman strode along with his face blank and impassive, but his golden eyes were fixed on the Wolfling's back. Owen shot a glance at Giles, but his face was carefully impassive, too. Whatever he remembered about the Hall of the Fallen, he wasn't giving anything away. They walked on through the silent forest, no one willing to break such a perfect silence with inconsequential chatter, until they came to a sudden branch in the trail. The Wolfling took the left-hand path, and it quickly led them to a bare face of rock; a giant stone slab rising hundreds of feet into the air, a massive tombstone in the midst of the forest. Owen craned his neck back, but he couldn't see the top of it. The Wolfling placed a great hand flat against the stone, and a door opened up in the stone wall, swinging silently inward on unseen hinges. A stark white light appeared in the doorway, and the Wolfling walked into it. There was a slight pause, and then the others followed him in, and this was how they came to the Hall of the Fallen.

  It was a great cavern, hewn out of the heart of the stone, lit with bright, unforgiving light that came from everywhere at once and hid nothing in shadows. In niches in the walls, of various sizes, stood all that remained of the Wolfling race. Some were almost complete, standing proudly erect with their death wounds left unclosed and uncleaned. Dried blood crusted ugly wounds in the midst of torn and matted fur. Some were missing limbs or heads, and others were merely body parts, collected together. There were thousands of them, in thousands of niches, the slaughtered dead with unseeing eyes over endlessly snarling mouths. Still beyond stillness, battered and broken, most lacking even the illusion of life. Owen turned slowly in a circle, his mind overloading with images of death and destruction. There were too many to count, bodies and parts of bodies, a race wiped out because it was… too good.

  "Welcome to the Hall of the Fallen," said the Wolfling. "I built it myself, over the years, because there was no one else left to do it. It took many years, but I've always had plenty of time, if nothing else. I gathered all the dead, left to lie where they had fallen by a triumphant Empire, and brought them here, one at a time. I am the last of the Wolflings, and I did not want my race to be forgotten. It is a sad and bitter honor to be the last of one's kind, and it carries heavy responsibilities. Has the Deathstalker told you how they died? No matter if he did; he remembers it his way and I remember it mine. We were stronger and greater than the race that created us, with a future and potential they could not hope to match. I sometimes think they would have forgiven us anything but that. So they came in their ships and destroyed us from a safe distance. The last of us hid away in our tunnels beneath the burning forests, and they had to send their men in after us. And for every Wolfling that died, we took a hundred human lives in payment. But there were so many of them, and so few of us, and in the end there was only me.

  "The Deathstalker came here some time later, looking for a safe place to leave his Device, and found me here. He chose to let me live. Whether that was an act of kindness or one last twist of the knife, I still am not sure. I lived on here, building my hall and gathering my dead. I even found a use for the human dead left behind. They have made good eating down the centuries, over and over, and even after endless recycling they are still pleasing to the palate. But you have heard enough from me. The Madness Maze is waiting for you. If you're ready, I'll take you to the entrance and entrust you to its tender mercies."

  "What exactly is the Maze?" said Owen. "Do you understand what it does, and why?"

  "I've been studying it for centuries," said the Wolfling. "From a cautious distance. And I'm no nearer understanding it now than I ever was. Aliens built it, though it was sometimes credited to us, but if they had a specific purpose in mind, they have never returned to tell me of it, and they left no testament. They came and left long before my time, or Humanity's. The Maze has killed most of the people who entered it. Perhaps you'll have better luck. And if not… I give you my word that if I can recover your remains, you will not go to waste."

  He grinned his disturbing grin again and stalked out of the Hall of the Fallen. The others trailed after him, muttering among themselves. Owen moved in close beside Giles.

  "Has he really been eating people all this time?"

  "Wouldn't surprise me. Wulf always had a unique sense of humor."

  "And all those bodies in the Hall of the Fallen; there's no sign of stasis fields there. Why haven't they decayed over the centuries?"

  Giles looked at him. "I told you. The Wolflings were immortal."

  He strode on, and Owen decided very fir
mly that he was going to change the subject. 'The more I hear about the Maze, the less I understand. The Wolfling said it killed people. Why is it so important to you that we go through it?"

  "The Maze is a test," said Giles. "If you pass the test, you live. Everything else is just hearsay. If you want its history. Moon could tell you more than I could."

  "I have never seen the Maze, but every Hadenman knows its story," said Moon. He didn't look round as Owen moved up beside him, but his voice was calm and even. "The history of the Maze is the history of my people. A long time ago, scientists came here, into the Darkvoid, in search of the Maze and the Wolfling who guarded it. One by one they passed through the Maze, and though many died and more went insane, the survivors emerged greater than they had been. These few scientists created the laboratories of Haden, founts of wonders and marvels beyond anything ever seen in the Empire. They worked at incredible speed, cold and perfect thoughts moving through their newly opened minds, and together they created the first Hadenmen. The laboratories worked day and night, first to produce clones by the thousand from the genetic templates of their creators, and then to turn those blank organic slates into augmented men, superior men. Hadenmen. Finally the scientists made themselves into Hadenmen and led their children out into the Empire in search of their destiny. And that was the first Crusade.

  "The Empire sought to use us at first, in its little wars and rivalries, but they quickly grew afraid of us. We were learning so much, of what we could and might do, working wonders and conquering all who stood against us. And everywhere we went we brought the gift of transformation. Of man into Hadenman. We were Gods of the Genetic Church, and people came to us in ever-increasing numbers. The Empire tried to stop them, but they could not stop what we had become. We were the ultimate destiny of Humanity, the merging of man and machine into a whole far greater than the sum of its parts. What the Maze had begun, we had completed. And so we began the second Crusade, to transform the whole Empire into what we had become.