The Song of Phaid the Gambler

by Mick Farren

  Phaid shook his head as though he was unwilling to accept what the elaihi was saying.

  'I can't believe all this.'

  'It is not my concern whether you believe it or not. It is how it is. Your belief counts for nothing.'

  'It's so hard to accept. First you claim that the human race is in a state of decay, but then you tell me about their magnificient past achievements.'

  'Isn't a journey to the stars magnificent enough for you?'

  'Yes, but . . .'

  'You also controlled the weather.'

  'The weather? I don't understand.'

  'Many centuries ago your scientists designed systems to order the weather. The wind and the rain were harnessed and tamed and put to use for the benefit of man.'

  'But what about the ice plains and the burning deserts? This world is fragmented and cut apart by its weather.'

  'That is the legacy. Once the big push into space was over, those left behind took the technology of their civilisation so much for granted that they didn't bother to maintain it in good order. Education was neglected and skills were lost. As the centuries went by, much was forgotten. The time before the exodus was looked on as a golden age. Those who had taken to space were talked about as Lords, superior beings. Then systems started to fail. No one knew how to service them. Android handlers malfunctioned and nobody knew how to replace them. The major disaster came when the weather control sys­tems failed. The winds were free after a thousand years of servitude to man. They ripped and roared across the earth, they scorched and they froze, they destroyed everything in their path.'

  'Are you telling me that the wind bands, the terrible heat and the terrible cold were only caused by our own weather control systems breaking down?'

  'That's exactly what I'm telling you.'

  'And the only reason that the weather control failed was because we forgot to maintain it?'

  'It does have a certain poetry, doesn't it. Once the weather had gone so much else went with it. Air transport ceased, the seas were no longer navigable, communica­tions broke down. Your civilisation was fragmenting and coming to pieces. From a world wide administration you regressed to the level of belligerent little city states. It took less than two centuries. You retreated into confusion and superstition. Ice covered your power plants and jungles grew over your space ports. The Lords were never coming home, no matter how the priests wailed and beseeched them. Humanity had started on its decline.'

  Phaid started to shiver. Suddenly the cold had pene­trated right into his bones. He covered his face with his hands. He was only a gambler, a parasite on the fringe of events. It wasn't his place to involve himself in the fall of cities, the apocalypse of a species, he hadn't been raised to mix with princes, presidents and devils. What was he doing on this frozen fell listening to these terrible stories from the lips of something that wasn't even human? He wanted to curl up in the snow and go to sleep. He was suddenly so tired. He didn't really care if he ever woke up again. He was aware of Edelline-Lan making clumsy and uncoordinated movements beside him. There was, how­ever, a strange, unsteady determination about her.

  'Coming.'

  Solchaim's attention flicked away from Phaid.

  'So you hear it?'

  Edelline-Lan's voice was slurred. She was only intelligi­ble if she spoke very, very slowly.

  'There's . . . a . . . flipper . . . coming . . . this . . . way.'

  Solchaim's focus came back to Phaid.

  'We will have to postpone our conversation.'

  Even Phaid could hear the flipper. It was coming up fast and the sound of it managed to rouse him slightly from the numb half-sleep that he had drifted into. The first traces of the dawn were starting to show on the horizon and he could just see the dark shape of the flipper speeding across the snow towards them. He knew that the flipper could only contain two people, two people with a murderous hatred for everyone around the small fire. Somehow, though, he couldn't raise any emotion, not even a mea­sure of fear or panic. He felt weighted down by an incredible burden of helplessness.

  The flipper grounded at some distance from the little camp. For a few moments nothing moved. A faint trace of blue haze from its power unit shimmered in the frozen air and then the passenger bubble flipped up. Two fur-clad figures swung themselves out of it and dropped to a defensive crouch in the snow. As Phaid had expected, it was Makartur and Flame.

  In the dawn the fells were totally drained of colour. A white sky met white snowfield with no visible seam. The arrival of Makartur and Flame was a sudden stab of dazzling red hair against the neutral background. Makar­tur's beard bristled and his hair rolled almost to his shoulders. Flame's hung past her waist. Her fox fur coat was almost as bright as her hair. Her legs were encased in green leather breeches and high top boots. Black goggles protected her eyes from snow blindness. Phaid found that he was partially seeing them the way Solchaim saw them. He had been right when he had described them as a pair of magnificent animals. They were so perfectly matched; lean and muscular thoroughbreds who both had the implacable, unswerving purpose of an attack hound. They had the same natural arrogance, the same set to their heads. They were proud and strong and deadly.

  When, after nearly a minute, nobody had made a move against them, Makartur slowly straightened. Flame did the same. Solchaim stood waiting for them. His tall, spindly figure was slightly stooped and quite motionless. He seemed to radiate an eerie stillness. Makartur and Flame slowly and cautiously started to walk forward. Both had weapons in their hands. The stillness in the air grew diamond hard. As they moved closer to Solchaim their footfalls in the snow were inaudible. Although all three figures stood tall in comparison to other men, they seemed dwarfed against the expanse of white land and white sky. It was Makartur who finally broke the tension and silence. He halted.

  'I have business with the man Phaid and the woman Chrystiana-Nex.'

  It was clear that neither Makartur nor Flame had recognised Solchaim for what he was. The elaihi was staring at the ground, giving no indication that he had even heard Makartur, then he raised his head and looked at them from under the brim of his huge hat. From nowhere a small whirling wind sprang into being. It spiralled around Makartur and Flame, blowing her hair into whipping strands and making the snow dance and eddy. Makartur put up an arm to shield his eyes but stood his ground.

  As suddenly as it had come, the wind was gone. Phaid had a sense of Solchaim amusedly flexing his muscles. When he spoke, however, his voice was guarded and neutral.

  'That will not be possible.'

  Makartur pushed back his shoulders and inflated his chest.

  'How say you, not possible?'

  'I have a prior claim on their time.'

  Makartur sounded dangerously calm.

  'I do not know who you are, sir, but there is no claim that can take priority over this business of mine.'

  'You take a lot on yourself.'

  'Maybe I do, but that's as it must be. I ask you, sir, to step aside and let me do what I have to.'

  Solchaim shook his head. Again, it wasn't like a human gesture.

  'I have told you that what you ask is impossible.'

  Makartur slowly brought up his weapon.

  'Will you heed my final warning? I'll not be deflected from my purpose.'

  The blaster was now pointed full at Solchaim. Makartur had fallen into the classic duellists' pose with extended arm, half turned stance. Solchaim seemed quite uncon­cerned.

  'You can neither have the man nor the woman.'

  'You'll die like a fool.'

  'I doubt that.'

  'Step aside.'

  'No.'

  'Damn you.'

  Makartur stuffed his blaster back into his holster. He stomped towards Solchaim with clenched fists. Warrior honour seemed to have negated the idea of burning the unarmed Solchaim where he stood. Makartur obviously intended to tear him apart with his bare hands.

  'You will step aside?'

  'No.'

 
A massive fist swung at the elaihi's head. It seemed that it couldn't help but snap his thin neck. The blow, how­ever, never landed. Solchaim hardly appeared to move but Makartur somersaulted in mid-air and crashed on his back in the snow. He lay breathless and confused. Flame raised her blaster.

  'I don't know who you are but I don't have any warrior scruples. Stand exactly where you are or I'm going to burn you.'

  Solchaim ignored both Flame's warning and also Makartur, who was attempting to scramble to his feet. He walked slowly towards her.

  'Do I have to teach you the same lesson that I just taught your companion?'

  'I'm telling you stay back.'

  Solchaim laughed. Flame's jaw tightened. She steadied her blaster with both hands.

  'One more step.'

  Solchaim stepped. The blaster roared. At the same time, Solchaim made a strange hand movement. For an instant his figure was silhouetted against the flash of the blaster. When it faded there was smoke and steam where the snow had boiled away and there was the whiff of static in the air but Solchaim stood completely untouched. His amusement was echoed through Phaid's mind. Phaid wondered how much of what had happened was real and how much was hallucination. Was the elaihi really able to deflect a blaster burn? Had he simply thrown off Flame's aim or had the whole incident been a product of mind control. Once again laughter echoed and rolled through the inside of Phaid's head.

  For a moment it looked like a standoff, then Makartur bellowed and his blaster roared. This time, Solchaim's arm gesture was more sweeping but it still deflected the flash. Flame fired again and the same thing happened. She took a step back. Her face was a mask of horror.

  'Gods and ancestors, it's him, the abomination from the Palace. Phaid has really thrown in with the devils.'

  Both she and Makartur were suddenly grabbed by a superstitious dread. Simultaneously, they both opened fire on the elaihi. He fielded the blasts as though it was a three-way juggling game played with fire and lightning. Solchaim's laugh rose above the roar of blasters, then, quite abruptly Phaid sensed that he had grown bored with the game. Makartur's blaster flew from his hand. Flame's did the same. A terrible invisible weight seemed to press down on Makartur. His shoulders bowed as he fought against it. His back bent and his face turned red. A vein in his forehead throbbed and his eyes bulged out. He was nearly blue before his legs caved in and he dropped to the snow. He tried desperately to force himself up but even his massive arms weren't equal to the task.

  'Damn you! Damn you!'

  'You're only fighting against your own strength.'

  Flame made a dart for where her blaster lay. She lunged for it but her legs gave way as Solchaim immobilised her in the same way as he had immobilised Makartur. He must have not exerted so much power in her case. She struggled and squirmed in the snow. Her long legs thrashed and her body contorted as she inched laboriously towards her blaster. Phaid discovered that he was actually finding the spectacle quite erotic. He let a lot of dark sexual thoughts surface, hoping that it might serve to confuse the elaihi just a little. Flame almost had her hand on the weapon, but it suddenly glowed cherry red. The snow around it melted. Flame shied away from it. Her movements were those of a trapped and fallen horse. Phaid found that, via Solchaim, he was also seeing the scene through the eyes of Makartur and Flame. Solchaim was a black shape, loom­ing between them and the cold bright rising sun, an angular mocking vulture demon from deep in their mutual ancient fears. Makartur in particular was being forced to use every measure of his will to hold down the dread and not yield to a primitive panic. Part of him was convinced that he was in conflict with a devil.

  Phaid could also see the other side. He could see the elaihi's obvious satisfaction in being able to play the humans like an old familiar violin. He seemed to know man's unconscious like he knew the back of his hand. Phaid felt sick, but there wasn't a thing that he could do about it. All he could hope was that, in time, he would get so sick that Solchaim wouldn't like it inside his mind and he'd withdraw. Solchaim, however, seemed to have no intention of withdrawing. He was readying himself for the next phase of the drama, now that he had suitably subjugated and humiliated Makartur and Flame. There was a strange telepathic ripple as the elaihi's full focus turned back to Phaid, Edelline-Lan and Chrystiana-Nex.

  'We will take their flipper.'

  Phaid found himself getting to his feet. Edelline-Lan and the ex-president were doing the same. Makartur and Flame lay still in the snow. They could have been sleep­ing. The day had become very bright and again it was still. The sun was clear of the horizon by more than a hand's breadth. Phaid and the women, with a slack faced lack of will, followed Solchaim towards the flipper. Long, early morning shadows preceded them. Phaid heard Chrys­tiana-Nex's voice, as though from a great distance. The sound was sharp and precise and as cold as the dawn itself.

  'Why have you come back? I no longer have a city to give you.

  Solchaim turned his head. He didn't stop walking.

  'Do you really think that I'd abandon you, poor little Crya?'

  Chrystiana-Nex sharply drew in her breath. Phaid wanted to turn around but he couldn't. She sounded as though she was going to say something, but suddenly there was a burst of blaster fire from behind them. Phaid was suddenly released. He spun around, pulling out his blaster. He had expected to see Flame and Makartur firing at them, but instead they were blasting in the opposite direction. A large pack of lupes was rapidly sweeping across the fells, bearing down on the two red-headed figures. Phaid rounded on Solchaim.

  'Did you do this?'

  Solchaim was unconcernedly popping open the bubble canopy on the flipper.

  'Stop trying to think and get in.'

  Edelline-Lan and Chrystiana-Nex did as they were told, but Phaid resisted.

  'You did do it, didn't you? You brought the lupes down on them.'

  Solchaim extended his arms and pointed towards the hunters' wagon.

  'Destroy that vehicle.'

  'But the hunters' women are still locked inside it.'

  Even though his brain protested, his arms were raising the blaster. The lupes were running a circle around Makartur and Flame. Solchaim was staring at him in­tently.

  'If it concerns you, you had better aim carefully and only destroy the drive unit. If those two get away from the lupes, I don't want them using the flipper to follow us.'

  The air was filled with howling and blaster fire. Phaid did his best to push it all to the back of his mind. He took careful aim and squeezed the release. At the last minute his hand trembled. The discharge hit the wagon squarely at a midpoint. A violent explosion tore through it. The passenger section was engulfed in a ball of angry orange flame. Black smoke billowed into the clear air. Phaid tottered back looking at the weapon in his hand as though he didn't believe that he was holding it.

  'Oh my Lords! I've killed them! Why did it explode like that?'

  Solchaim took hold of his arm.

  'Don't concern yourself. It was an accident. You must have hit something they had stored in the vehicle.'

  Phaid was about to give way to sobbing.

  'I killed them.'

  'Control yourself.'

  Phaid straightened. His eyes became dull. Solchaim propelled him towards their flipper.

  'Get in and drive, unless you want the lupes to get you.'

  Without question, Phaid climbed into the flipper, slid behind the controls and flipped the drive control into life. A number of lupes had detached themselves from the main pack and were racing towards them. Was the elaihi really controlling them? Solchaim slammed the canopy and the flipper started to rise. Four people were a serious overload and its responses were slow and sluggish. It moved forward but the lupes were overtaking them. One hurled itself at the canopy. It came close enough for Phaid to see its lolling red rag of a tongue and curved yellow teeth. Solchaim laughed at the humans' fear, but then the flipper started to accelerate and the hungry pack was left behind. Phaid was exhausted. He held the contr
ols and kept the flipper on a straight, steady line, but let his mind slip into automatic. The elaihi could do what he liked, he could dance Phaid like a puppet. He didn't care. He had no more resistance left.

  'Our destination is Bluehaven.'

  Phaid grunted. Solchaim arched a thin eyebrow.

  'No questions, no curiosity about why we should go to Bluehaven? Have you stopped attempting to divine my masterplan?'

  'It may surprise you to learn that we humans wear out. If you didn't have a finger stuck in my brain I would have passed out from fatigue a long time ago.'

  'Then I had better keep my finger there, as you so quaintly put it. I need you to steer this machine to Bluehaven.'

  'Can't you steer it yourself? You shouldn't find it difficult.'

  'Questions?'

  'I can't take much more.'

  Phaid could now imagine how years with the elaihi had driven Chrystiana-Nex insane.

  'Relax, do not make any effort. Just keep your hands on the controls. The rest will happen by itself.'

  'The only thing that's going to happen if I relax at the controls is that I'll fall asleep and turn the damned thing over. I'm sure that's not part of your scheme.'

  Solchaim sighed. It was as though he was dealing with a tiresome, slow to learn pet.

  The flipper was now travelling quite fast, despite its load. It zipped along, just half a metre above the surface of the snow. The sun was now well up and the sky had turned a deep blue. The snow threw back the light in an uncomfortable glare. Phaid touched a control and made the bubble more opaque. The fells were still completely featureless and all he could do was to steer for the purple clouds on the horizon.

  The sun and the fact that four people were huddled into a space only designed for two made it hot inside the bubble. Phaid's eyelids were drooping. Edelline-Lan and Chrystiana-Nex were quite lifeless. Their breathing was shallow and irregular. Phaid's head nodded forward, then he jerked and came awake again. Solchaim's voice whis­pered seductively in his ear.