by Mick Farren
'And what can one man do against a hundred?'
'He's not a man. When the hell are you going to accept this? He can take you with a single illusion.'
'I never met an illusion that could stop a blaster.'
'You never met an elaihi.'
'And you're his friend.'
'I'm not his friend. I was more like his prisoner.'
'You'll be my prisoner unless you stop interfering, Master Phaid.'
'Listen . . .'
'You either shut your mouth or you go to the surface in irons. We have yet to discuss the possible whereabouts of Spiritual Brother Dreen.'
Phaid's eyes narrowed.
'Whatever you say.'
His Eminence snorted as Phaid turned on his heel and walked back to Edellin'e-Lan.
'It's hopeless.'
His Emience returned to the hailer.
'You have three minutes left. I would make this appeal to ex-president Chrystiana-Nex. We have no quarrel with you. Our only wish is to take you into custody for your own protection.'
Edelline-Lan grimaced.
'I bet they do.'
'Persuade your companion to give himself up. We also have no quarrel with him or his species. If, however, you continue to resist we will have no choice but to storm the building. You cannot prevail against the forces ranged, against you.'
Phaid looked the other way.
'The bloody priest's in love with his own voice.'
There was total silence in the streets of the city. Everyone seemed to be watching, holding their breath until whatever was going to happen, happened.
'Two minutes.'
Still no sound came from the building.
'You have one minute.'
Phaid looked from the priests to the council chamber and back again.
'I hope this fool's superiors approve of what he's doing.'
'Your time has run out. If you do not come out immediately, I am going to order my men to open fire!'
The laughter was so blood-curdlingly terrible that even the robot-like priests' militant forgot their training and shifted uncomfortably. It rang around the beams and echoed down from the roof of ice until it became impossible to pinpoint the source of the sound. At no stretch of the imagination could it have come from a human throat. It was the laughter of devils and demons from the hells of legend. Edelline-Lan put her hands over her ears but she couldn't shut it out. The corner of Phaid's mouth twitched involuntarily.
'Here we go.'
His Eminence had stepped back from the hailer. One of his aides had handed the comset that linked him to his four squad leaders. He spoke into it and the line of militants tensed. Orders were barked. Sheets of blaster flame fountained into all four sides of the building. It was a precise, well drilled exercise in destruction. The demi-prelate stepped back with the air of a man who was happy that everything was going exactly as he had visualised. His black armoured troops stood their ground and pumped fire into the council chamber.
Above the roar, one of the burghers shouted a warning that if the blaster fire continued for too long, there was a chance that the roof might melt. The demi-prelate looked at him with open contempt.
'Everything is under control. We know exactly what we are doing.'
Almost in mockery of his words an eruption of counter fire exploded out from twenty or more of the council building's windows. It lashed down with such fury and deadly violence that there had to be at least another small army inside with Solchaim. Phaid knew that the returning flames could be nothing but an elaihim illusion but he took no chances. He threw himself flat on the ground and covered his head with his arms. Edelline-Lan did the same. Both were well aware that if the elaihi willed it, his illusions could kill just as effectively as the real thing. What Phaid couldn't quite understand was that, in contradiction to his previous fatigue, Solchaim was now apparently growing in strength. He was affecting the minds of hundreds of people with shattering force. All around there was carnage. For a number of the militants the illusion was so complete they fell either dead or dying. The ground around the building was churned up and smoking. As far as Phaid could tell, Solchaim had found some source of energy in the small town into which he could tap and from which he could feed.
The militants were scrambling for cover, trying to dig down into the rock hard permafrost of the street. A large chunk fell out of the front of the council chamber, leaving a gaping hole. The demi-prelate was still on his feet, he seemed unable to believe what was going on. His discipline and training, the most important things in his life, had deserted him. He was staring, wide eyed and helpless. In the other streets the onlookers were reeling backwards, trying to get out of the way of the flames. It had only taken a matter of minutes to turn the orderly little ice town into a picture of violent chaos.
The fire abruptly stopped. Phaid raised his head, but quickly ducked again as a loud, hideous creaking vibrated through the town. Two large, boulder sized blocks of ice and a shower of smaller debris crashed into the street. A long, jagged crack had arched across the roof. Phaid's eyes were tightly closed as he waited for the next fall of ice. To his relief, none came. Solchaim's laugh again echoed around the streets. This time, however, after the inexplicable fusillade of phantom blasters, it didn't carry the same terror. Phaid edged closer to Edelline-Lan. He still wasn't prepared to risk getting up.
'You got any guesses what he's going to do next?'
Edelline-Lan shook her head.
'I've just got this feeling that something very bad is about to happen.'
'Something very bad is happening.'
'You know what I mean. It's like a premonition, a sense of impending doom.'
'He could be spreading it himself.'
'Which probably means he's softening us up for something. It's likely he's getting ready for some kind of set-piece unpleasantness. You know how he likes to show off.'
'Is it really showing off?'
There was another loud creak from the roof. Phaid winced and waited for the fall. Still it didn't come.
'Of course it's showing off. He may have his powers and he may be superior to us in every way, but he's not a god. He's got weaknesses, and one of them is showing off to us inferiors. Another one is that he's a bully. I think we ought to start moving back, out of the way, before he begins pulling the wings off us flies.'
There was a commotion on the other side of the building.
The demi-prelate, who had managed to claw back most of his sanity, spoke urgently into the comset. Phaid grasped the angle of one of his aides.
'What's happened?'
'A suicide squad attempted to storm the back of the chamber.'
'And?'
'It failed.'
'It was suicide?'
'Most of them killed.'
'Maybe it was a wish fulfilment.'
The aide looked as though nothing would please him better than to burn Phaid where he lay. Phaid got into a crouch and gestured to Edelline-Lan.
'Over there.'
Cautiously they made their way to a building on the other side of the street. A Windlee lawman was crouched in the doorway of a general store. He hardly looked up when Phaid and Edelline-Lan joined him. He kept shaking his head as though he wasn't able to accept what his eyes were seeing. There was a brief exchange of fire at the side of the building. This time Solchaim decided to play with the flames and it became a brief but brilliant firework display. Phaid was mystified.
'What is he doing, and where is he getting all this power from? I'd sure as hell like to know his next move.'
He didn't have to wait very long for an answer. The streets started to grow dark. It was a strange, unnatural darkness. The lawman's eyes rolled in horror.
'The power plant's gone!'
It occurred to Phaid that Solchaim might have discovered a way to hook himself to the town's power plant. He said nothing, however. Instead he looked around carefully.
'It's not the power plant. Everything is still
working. You can see from the glo-globes on the houses and the ones set in the roof. They're still burning. This darkness is growing inside our own minds.'
Whatever the cause, it was as though some sinister invisible thing was soaking all the light in the town. The glo-globes and tubes seemed to struggle against the gloom. Phaid kept telling himself that it was an illusion, but it didn't stop fear clawing at his soul. When it looked as though things couldn't get any worse, the red came. It was the same red that Phaid had seen in the control room of the Valentine. Solchaim was well acquainted with the precise shade of human terror. The red glow seemed to come pulsing from above as though some huge evil thing was squatting on the ice above the city, pouring its grim, bloody radiation through the ice of the roof. Phaid could hear people screaming further out in the streets. Even the iron discipline of the priests' militant was breaking up. Some were looking around fearfully, others had dropped their weapons and were backing away. The demi-prelate and his aides were standing, stunned. Nothing in their experience gave them any means to combat what was happening to them. The lawman's mouth was working helplessly. A line of saliva trailed down his chin. He seemed on the very edge of being completely taken over by irrational fear.
'It's . . . it's . . .'
'It's what?'
'It's the end of the world.'
'Most probably.'
'What did we do?'
'We stopped being top of the heap.'
The lawman started to shake uncontrollably.
'It's the end of the world.'
Phaid nodded again.
'It more than likely is.'
Phaid found himself strangely unaffected by what was going on. He badly wanted a drink, but quivering terror was not about to overtake him. He leaned towards Edelline-Lan.
'I think everyone else is getting this worse than us.'
'We must have become used to it.'
'The smartest thing we could do is to use all this as a cover for us to sneak away. We should try and make it up to the surface and steal a flipper. If we . . . oh no!'
Terror had sneaked up on Phaid and jumped on him. It was a particular and very personal terror. Makartur and Flame, his would-be killers from his immediate past, were standing and talking to the demi-prelate and his stunned and disorganised aides. They seemed to have been brought there by an escort of militants from the troop carriers on the surface.
At first Phaid thought this was an illusion, tailor-made for him to whip him into line, but then he wondered. He grasped Edelline-Lan by the arm.
'Do you see it?'
'See what? Get a grip, Phaid.'
'Look, look! Over by his Eminence!'
Edelline-Lan looked where he was pointing. Her face fell.
'Oh Lords!'
'You see them?'
Edelline-Lan's mouth was a tight hard line.
'I see them.'
'They must have been on that second boat that was following us. Now I really do have to get out of here.'
Almost as though on cue Makartur turned and looked straight at Phaid. Their eyes met. Even in the red gloom there was no way to pretend that they hadn't been spotted. Makartur spoke to Flame and pointed. Edelline-Lan looked anxiously at Phaid.
'What shall we do now?'
Phaid slowly pulled the blaster from his belt. Makartur was striding towards him with a dangerous purpose. There seemed to be no way to avert the instant of confrontation. And then Solchaim appeared. He was standing on the second floor, in the hole that had been blasted in the wall. He was bathed in an unearthly golden radiance. Makartur hesitated. He looked at Solchaim and then back at Phaid. He seemed torn as to which was his greater enemy. Finally he glared balefully at Phaid.
'You seem to have been granted a stay of execution, manny. That monster will go first and then I'll be back for you. This is not only a matter between you and me. One of the hunters' women was burned in the explosion. She took four hours to die.'
Phaid stood mute as he turned and walked away. Edelline-Lan looked at him with a puzzled expression.
'You could have shot him in the back. It would have stopped the whole business once and for all.'
Phaid looked as though he didn't understand it himself.
'I don't know. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it. I wanted to, but something was stopping me, holding me back.'
Edelline-Lan nodded towards Solchaim.
'Him.'
Phaid shook his head.
'I don't know any more. I think I'm exhausted. There was a point just now. just when Makartur was walking towards me, I didn't care any more. I'd been adrift for too long. I didn't have the strength to raise a blaster.'
Edelline-Lan looked at him in a strange way but didn't say anything. Phaid seemed to be receding. He and his problems were none of her concern. She only wanted to look at Solchaim. The elaihi was demanding all of her attention. He was demanding the attention of everyone in the town. Every eye was fixed on him. He seemed to swell and grow as though feeding on something in the stares of the humans. The golden light became dazzling. A terrible sadness came over Edelline-Lan. A large tear ran down her face, although she hadn't a clue why. The elaihi was beautiful. She choked back a sob. Then the voice of Phaid muttered beside her.
'We really are being softened up for something.'
She tried to talk through her tears.
'It's not getting to you. Oh Phaid, he's so beautiful, wonderful, so golden . . .'
Her voice trailed away. She was staring wide-eyed at Solchaim. Reassuring things were being said inside her head by a soft voice. She felt loved and protected. The terrible sadness only came because she was so unworthy, so inferior. She deserved punishment but instead she was being rewarded with kindness and love. For a second time the voice of Phaid cut in on her bittersweet bliss.
'I think I know what he's doing.'
A flutter of annoyance danced across her otherwise perfect vision. All around the council chambers people appeared to be experiencing similar washes of ecstasy. Many of the priests' militant had put down their weapons, some had even removed their helmets and sections of their armour to make themselves more comfortable on the hard ground. Some sat cross-legged in an attitude of meditation, others stood at rapt attention, a few bowed in prayer. Two had actually curled themselves into foetal positions. The lines that the lawmen had set up to keep back the crowds were disintegrating and the townspeople moved forward towards the source of the revelation. Their faces were slack and their movements slow and clumsy as though they were in a trance.
'He's using so much power. It's incredible. I didn't know he was capable of anything on this scale. It must be the power plant. If he was doing this on his own he'd have burned himself out by now. This is something special.'
Solchaim seemed to be in total control of every mind in the city. The red gloom was slowly lifting, melted by the passionate heat of his brilliant golden aura. Humans stretched their arms in supplication to this wonderful being who offered eternal good. Everyone was touched by the warmth of his love. Everyone, that is, except Phaid.
'This has to be the set-piece that he's been planning all along. The arrival of the priests must have forced his hand. I'm sure he didn't want to stage it in a backwater ice town like this.'
Edelline-Lan had sunk to her knees. She was quivering all over and moaning softly in her throat. Spiritual exultation was obviously being tinged by the sexual. Others were showing the same symptoms. Solchaim was clearly producing a very uniform vision. Phaid found it easier to concentrate on the behaviour of the others around him. He knew if he started to examine the images in his own mind, he'd have no reason to resist.
'The power that's flowing out of him is quite incredible. He's unstoppable. This has to be the beginning of the end for us.'
A low drone of voices that didn't form words filled the underground streets of Windlee. It started to glow in volume and developed a regular metered pulse. The humans were no longer the passive observers of their elaihi created vi
sions. They were starting to actually participate in his games. Phaid seized Edelline-Lan by the shoulders and shook her roughly.
'Fight him! For the sake of your mind, you have to fight him! He's taking us all over and he isn't going to let go.'
She showed no response. Phaid found that his words were being addressed to deaf ears. He continued to talk. It was one way to keep a hold on his sanity.
'He's going to be a god. He's going to run the world. We are going to be worshipping him, and more than likely we will destroy ourselves in the process. He'll replace all the other religions. No one will be able to stand against him. He's a god right here on earth. We will simply become his creatures, his doomed pets, living out our time before extinction.'
There was quiet, hollow laughter inside his head. Solchaim hadn't overlooked him, he was amused by his lonely voice shouting independence. There was never going to be independence ever again. What terrible religion could humanity invent when their god was among them with limitless power to hold them enthralled?
'And what am I? Why am I set apart? Do you need a flunkey, am I to be god's dog or do you want me around as a specimen, the last living example of a free human being, a souvenir of the late great human race?'
The laughter once again rang in his head. The other humans in the city replied to it in a strange language that Phaid was certain the elaihi had invented especially for the occasion. It was entirely unlike any human tongue that he had ever encountered on his travels.
It was an eerie experience, having to stand and listen while a few hundred people with faces blank as the dead chanted in an alien language to a spindly glowing creature that stood and laughed at their blind, slave-like obedience. Phaid knew this was a glimpse of the future as Solchaim had it planned. Man would become a useless, unthinking tribal beast in wandering, rapidly diminishing numbers. Once again Phaid asked the self created god why he had been chosen to be the one spared.
It was then that he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't the only one not to be a part of the controlling spell. Makartur was getting slowly and laboriously to his feet. He seemed to be carrying a crushing, invisible load, but he managed to carry it. He staggered towards the building, slow as a sleepwalker, lurching and stumbling, but all the time going towards Solchaim. Twice he fell to his knees, but he managed to get up again. Somewhere deep inside his warrior brain he had found a reserve of madness and energy to carry him forward against his enemy. There wasn't the slightest chance that he could prevail. There would be no eleventh hour victory for humanity but his vain, pointless determination and courage were magnificent.
