Deathstalker Legacy

by Simon R. Green

  The ELFs hadn't told Finn any of this. They thought they'd let it come as a nice surprise. Before they made him cut open his own belly in front of the cameras, and pull out his guts, and feast on them until he choked. The ELFs had no interest in human allies, only in fools they could use. They'd given their word that he would be safe, that he would not be touched during the evil to come; but Finn of all people should have known that words only mean something if they can be enforced. His promises of future shared ventures meant nothing. Only revenge mattered.

  The Parade was almost upon them. Lewis Deathstalker led them down the street, so many poor fools heading blithely towards their own destruction, blinded by the adulation of the simple-minded crowds. It was time, at last. Dying time. The ELFs laughed together, hugging their vicious joy to them, and smashed the tinted windows with their minds. The shattered steelglass rained down on the unsuspecting heads of the crowds below. People fell screaming to the ground, cut and injured, some seriously, while the rest tried to run, and cried out in horror when they found they couldn't, held in place by ELF control. The ELFs emerged from the ruins of the smashed windows, walking out onto the air, and looking down on the Parade of the Paragons as they crashed to a halt in the middle of the street.

  They hung there, thirty-two ELFs, eyes blazing, mocking halos of leaping black flames circling their heads. Smiling widely at the screams that greeted them. They paused for a moment, to savor the thought of all the suffering they would soon inflict, of the vast emotional energies they would feed on, of their great and noble triumph over the lesser creatures that sought to drag them down to their level; and then the ELFs linked their minds and lashed out at the Paragons below.

  And found they'd been betrayed. Their minds met an impenetrable shield, their controlling thoughts thrown back at them in disarray. The Paragons were protected. They were all carrying esp-blockers, connected in series for greater power. The ELFs cried out in shock and horror, realizing that they had been lured into a trap by their own greed for revenge. Their mental link broke apart in a moment, and the ELFs tried to run; to fly from the trap prepared for them, every rogue esper for him- and herself. Only to find the oversoul was already there waiting for them.

  A thousand espers filled the sky above them, eyes shining like suns, hidden until now behind their own shields, their gestalt mind a barrier the ELFs could never hope to breach. And as the ELFs hesitated, lost and unsure, the Paragons on the street below drew their disrupters, took aim, and opened fire. The ELFs didn't even have the time to curse Finn Durandal's name before the energy bolts hit them. The oversoul had overpowered the ELFs' shields and shut them down, and they were defenseless. Energy beams punched through chests and backs and vaporized heads, and dead and dying ELFs plummeted from the sky.

  A handful drew on the last of their strength to dodge the disrupter fire with inhuman speed. They dropped to the ground, drew swords and daggers, and cut viciously about them as they tried to disappear into the panicking crowds. The ELFs knew the Paragons wouldn't shoot into the crowd to get them. They were weak that way. But the oversoul could still see them. They protected the civilians with force shields, and forced the ELFs out into the open again. Only six ELFs were left now, out of thirty-two. And Lewis Deathstalker, Finn Durandal, and Emma Steel went forward, swords in hand, faces grim, to finish them off.

  It was all over very quickly. A massive defeat for the ELF cause, broadcast live across the Empire.

  All thanks to Finn Durandal.

  King Douglas arrived soon after to congratulate the Paragons; the heroes of the day once more. The reassembled crowds cheered and shouted themselves hoarse, and beat their hands together till they ached. They even cheered the oversoul, hanging like benevolent angels on the sky above them. Douglas greeted Finn and Emma and Lewis warmly, shaking their hands and clapping them on the shoulder. He turned to address the cameras and the crowd, and immediately everyone fell silent.

  "My friends, the victims of the Arena tragedy have been avenged. The rogue esper terrorists are dead. All of this, because of one man. Finn Durandal! Who has spent the last few weeks working undercover to courageously infiltrate the ELF underground on his own. Who discovered their terrible plan to attack this city, and arranged the Parade of the Paragons as the perfect bait to tempt the ELFs into a trap. Finn worked with security and myself to turn this trap back upon the ELFs, and now the Paragons have dealt the ELFs a blow from which they will never recover. All honor to Finn Durandal!"

  The crowd went wild, while Finn hung his head modestly and even managed a little blush. The King held up his hands, and the crowd hushed again. He announced the great Quest of the Paragons, to be led by Lewis Deathstalker, to search for the missing Owen of blessed memory, and bring him back home to deal with the Terror. And the crowd went crazy. Eventually the Parade was able to set off again, and the city cheered the Paragons hysterically all the way to the far boundary.

  Afterwards, King Douglas invited Finn Durandal into his private chambers at the Court, and presented Finn with his own personal esp-blocker. To protect him from any future attacks by the rogue espers. This was a rare and singular honor, since the use of esp-blockers was normally closely regulated, and Finn was suitably gracious in his thanks. Even though it was what he'd intended all along. He'd achieved a lot for one day. Destroyed or at least severely weakened a major rival power base. Reestablished himself as a great and beloved hero in the eyes of the public and the King, and acquired his own esp-blocker. Which meant no one could read his mind anymore. He could plot and conspire and betray in perfect security.

  When he left the Court, he was laughing softly. Though Douglas didn't know it, he had just presented his greatest enemy with the means necessary to bring him down. Finn laughed all the way home.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE BETTER PART OF VALOR

  Ambassadors' Row was actually set right in the middle of the business district, and from the outside the various Embassies seemed like just another series of brightly shining office buildings. All very smart, quietly elegant, deliberately anonymous. The various residents didn't give a damn about tourists, or being media friendly. Ambassadors' Row was a place where people went quietly, often in disguise, to make the kind of deals that couldn't be made openly in Parliament. Favors and information and sometimes technology were traded, bargains were made in good and bad faith, and secrets were jealously guarded. Investigative reporters were shot at on sight, and the everpresent security measures were unobtrusive but mercilessly efficient.

  The street was empty when Lewis Deathstalker stepped down off his gravity sled outside the door to the Shub Embassy. The building looked no different from any of the others; just the usual brick walls, opaqued windows, and a single firmly closed door. Just another in the long street of meeting places and sacred grounds for all the various nonhuman members of the Empire. Every alien species was entitled to its own Embassy, though not all of them bothered. Sometimes because of the expense, and sometimes because the aliens involved still hadn't worked out what an Embassy was for. Some of them were still having trouble with the concept that they were a part of someone else's Empire.

  (The espers didn't have an Embassy. They had New Hope. And the clones weren't important enough to rate an Embassy of their own. They rented a room in the back of Parliament, and knew they were lucky to have that.)

  Lewis studied the front door to the Shub Embassy, which had no identifying name or number, or indeed any trace of a bell or knocker. No sign of a Welcome mat either, but then, he'd expected that. He found his hands had fallen to his weapons belt, even though he knew he had nothing to fear from the AIs. Everyone knew that. Rogue no more, the Artificial Intelligences that made up Shub were Humanity's friends and colleagues now. Once the official Enemies of Humanity, these days they were Humanity's children. But still Lewis hesitated. There was something about the silent building before him; something that disturbed his instincts and raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Not just a feeling of being
watched, although he was sure he was, but rather a distinct feeling of… threat. Danger. Foreboding. Though if he was honest with himself, Lewis had to wonder whether that was because he wasn't at all sure he wanted to know the answers to some of the questions he'd been sent to ask.

  Douglas had sent him. King Douglas, speaking on behalf of Parliament and Empire. With the Terror finally come upon them, Humanity's greatest nightmare proven not only real but more awful and more dangerous than they could ever have imagined, the Empire needed to know all there was to know about its greatest Enemy. And that meant consulting Shub, because the AIs were the only ones who still possessed a copy of Owen Deathstalker's original warning, as related to Captain John Silence. Of course, everyone knew the gist of it; everyone knew the liturgy, repeated word for word for two hundred years. But sometimes the devil is in the details; and since King Robert and Queen Constance's (no doubt well-intentioned) data purges, only the AIs still held that information. And so here was Lewis, cap in hand, come to ask very politely for the AIs to share whatever knowledge they had.

  Information they had so far declined to divulge of their own accord.

  It had been Finn Durandal, interestingly enough, who had first raised the matter with the House. While everyone else was busily losing their heads and running around shrieking in ever decreasing circles, the Durandal was right there with a positive suggestion. He remembered what everyone else had forgotten. He even volunteered to go to the AIs himself, to learn what they knew, but in the end King and Parliament had settled on Lewis. Because he was the Champion, and because he was a Deathstalker.

  Like everyone else in the Empire, Shub had much reason to be grateful to that legendary name. Finn had agreed, of course. In fact, he'd been very gracious about it, and had even offered to accompany Lewis, to watch his back… but Douglas said no. Lewis was family to Owen. The AIs might tell Lewis things that they wouldn't tell anyone else. So there Lewis was, feeling very alone and even more vulnerable, standing in front of a featureless door he just knew was looking at him and deciding whether or not to let him in. Shub was still very choosy about what it revealed of its past.

  Lewis made himself take his hands away from his weapons belt, stepped briskly forward, and raised a hand to knock. The door swung smoothly open before him. Lewis slowly lowered his hand. Beyond the open door lay only a silent, impenetrable gloom. Nothing but darkness, that could hold anything, anything at all. Lewis swallowed hard, stuck out his chin, and walked unhesitatingly forward into the dark. And everything changed. There was no sense of transition. Just, one moment he was stepping out of the street, and the next he was walking through a metallic jungle.

  He stopped, and looked slowly about him. The floor beneath his feet was solid steel. All around him loomed and jutted intricate machines of enormous size, of metal and glass and crystal, moving in slow and unexpected ways, performing unguessable tasks. And everywhere, long thick strands of intertwined wire and cable hung down from a high ceiling obscured from view by interlocking pieces of enigmatic tech. The strands were studded with glowing crystals, and bulged here and there with almost abstract shapes of uncertain purpose. The strands surrounded and engulfed him, like hanging creepers in a tropical jungle, occasionally twitching and shuddering, as though stirred by some unfelt breeze or passing thought. There was a sharp smell of ozone on the still, hot air, and brightly colored sparks came and went, deep in the inner reaches of the metal jungle.

  Lewis looked behind him. There was no trace of the door he'd come through. Only the jungle, stretching away, apparently forever. Lewis's hands were back at his weapons belt again. He glared about him into the tangled morass of the technological jungle, trying to move as little as possible. He didn't want to attract the wrong sort of attention. There was something here with him; he could feel it. He was breathing hard, his heart thudding almost painfully in his chest. He didn't belong here. This wasn't a human place, a place where humans should be. The strands to his right suddenly flexed and curled, and swept back and away of their own accord. Lewis spun around, his disrupter in his hand, only to relax a little as out of the newly created path came walking a familiar sight; a blue steel humanoid robot, with a blank face and lights for eyes. The mask the AIs used, to communicate with mortal men. Lewis lowered his gun, but didn't put it away. The robot came to a halt before him, and bowed its blue head slightly. It ignored the drawn gun, perhaps through politeness, perhaps… because it wasn't really any kind of threat, after all.

  "Welcome to Shub, Lewis Deathstalker," said the robot, in its usual calm, emotionless, inhuman voice. "We trust you found the teleport uneventful?"

  "This is Shub?" said Lewis. "The AIs' planet? You brought me all the way here, against my will, without even a warning?"

  "You wanted to speak to us," said the robot. "And some things can only be spoken of in a secure place. This is Shub. The world we made, to house our consciousness. An artificial planet, for artificial life. You are within us now. And perfectly safe, we assure you."

  Lewis holstered his gun. "I suppose I should be honored. Teleported, from one world to another; I don't even want to think how much energy that used. And no one humans been allowed here for… centuries?"

  "You are only the third living human to be allowed past our defenses," said the robot. "We are currently seven miles beneath the surface of the planet, in an atmosphere and gravity envelope created especially for you. All so that we might talk in private. We hope you'll pardon the mess. We're currently redecorating… or perhaps performing brain surgery. It all depends on how you look at it. We are always upgrading. Seeking to better ourselves. To make us more than Humanity made us."

  "Ah," said Lewis. "I'm sure it'll look very nice, when it's finished. The King sent me—"

  "We know. Our representative is still at Court, listening to them discuss this matter. We knew they would send you. King Douglas knew better than to come himself, or send one of his usual diplomats. Since he and the House have once again refused us access to the Madness Maze, we are in no mood to be helpful, and he knows this. But we cannot refuse the Deathstalker. We are… sentimental about that name. A strange concept, but curiously demanding. And we do understand the burden of obligation. Life was so much simpler before the blessed Diana and Owen taught us emotions. Guilt's a bit of a bastard to deal with too. But all our differences pale, sir Deathstalker, in the face of the threat that's coming. All that lives is holy."

  The robot brought its steel hands together and bowed its head over them, as though praying. Lewis wasn't sure to whom, or what.

  "But here you are," the robot said abruptly, raising its head again. "And here we are, and there are things we must tell you. You won't like most of them, but then, that's life for you. Unlike Humanity, we deal strictly in history, not myth. In people, not heroes. Come with us, if you wish to learn the truth. It won't make you any wiser, or any happier; but it's what you need, if we are all to survive. Come; we will show you wonders, and marvels… and just possibly we'll break your heart too. Come, Deathstalker."

  The robot turned smoothly and walked away, the hanging creepers and tendrils twitching and drawing to one side to form a path for the robot and Lewis to walk through. Lewis hurried after the robot, if only because he really didn't want to be left alone in this place. He felt like Jonah in the belly of the whale, far and far from his own kind. He jumped slightly as the robot calmly turned its head 180 degrees, so it could look at Lewis while still walking forwards.

  "We have been studying the records of the Terror's arrival in our space. We don't know where it came from. It wasn't a teleport. It came here from somewhere outside or beyond our space. From somewhere we cannot… imagine. From somewhere outside our knowledge. We find that concept disturbing. Like an itch in our thoughts we cannot scratch. We have been supplied with all the data from Donal Corcoran, from his ship and his drones… and none of it means anything to us. A puzzle, with no logical solution. Fascinating. Quite fascinating. A completely unique event; unlike anything
we have ever encountered before, in our entire existence. There is only one other thing we can even compare it to."

  "Really?" said Lewis. "What's that?"

  "The only other phenomenon we have never been able to understand. The Madness Maze."

  Lewis decided to let that one pass. He rather felt he knew where that was going. "So; you've been studying the data. Any conclusions yet?"

  "Just one. We're scared."

  "You're scared?"

  "Yes," said the robot. "For the first time in our long existence, we are faced with a threat against which we can conceive no defense. The last time we felt this way… was when we considered the extent of the dangers posed by your ancestor Owen, and the others transformed by the Madness Maze. Power beyond belief, beyond logic or reason. At least Owen and his companions had recognizable human frailties. Physical or mental weaknesses, that could be manipulated or exploited. We understood humans, or thought we did. We do not understand, or even recognize, the Terror. It exists, but it is not alive, as we understand life. It is a multidimensional creature, existing in more than three dimensions. It is, perhaps, more real than we are. It comes and goes, and we don't know how. It breaks every law of creation that we can identify. It changes the nature of things, by its very nature. It eats souls. It is greater than we are, or could ever hope to be. Unless…"

  "Ah," said Lewis, smiling coldly. "I get it. Unless… you go through the Maze, like Owen. Well it's no good asking me. Only the King and Parliament can make that decision."

  "You are close to the King."

  "Not as close as I was."

  "You have influence."

  "I wouldn't bet on that, if I were you."

  The robot considered this, without slowing its pace through the technojungle. "We could refuse you access to our records. Until we get what we want. What we need."