"Once we start moving, we don't stop," he said quietly. "Kill anything that even looks at us. Once we've killed enough of them, and they realize: they can't take us down, they'll fall back and leave us alone."
"Can I have that in writing?" said Brett.
"Hush," said Rose. "Just stay close to me, Brett, and you'll be fine."
"It's come to something when I actually find you reassuring," said Brett. "Oh, hell, let's do it."
They plunged forwards into the jungle, leaving the light behind, and all hell descended on them from every direction at once. The stark glare of energy beams flashed in the gloom, blowing apart monstrous forms as they surged forwards from hiding. Meat vaporized, and blood flew on the air as arteries disintegrated. And then the guns fell silent, recharging, and it was hand-to-hand fighting. The party stopped; they had no choice, attacked from all sides at once. The four humans formed a square, with their force shields facing out. Saturday had already been swept away in the fierce fighting. The energy shields absorbed the impact of vicious blows, and their razor-sharp blurred edges sliced easily through claw and muscle and bone. Swords rose and fell, thrust and parried, jarred on bone and hacked through howling faces, but for every creature that fell there were always more to take their place. Guns recharged and fired again, blowing armored guts apart and exploding bony heads, and still the monsters pressed forward. Their savage cries and roars were maddeningly loud at close range.
Huge forms towered overhead, while smaller creatures swarmed across the ground, snapping at the party's leather boots with vicious jaws. The only thing that kept the party from being immediately overwhelmed was the tightly-packed trees, which limited the number of monsters that could come at them at one time. Lewis stood his ground and hacked and slashed about him with cruel controlled strokes, not wasting a single movement. He kept his force shield moving, always between him and a flailing claw or a champing mouth. He killed everything that came at him, not flinching even when different colored ichors splashed across his face, lightly burning the skin. Jesamine guarded his back with short sword and dagger, pirouetting with deadly grace like the dancer she was, crying out constantly with rage and shock and revulsion.
Rose Constantine, the Wild Rose of the Arena, sliced remorselessly about her, wielding her long sword with inhuman strength, sending the bodies of the dead flying back into the faces of the living. She was smiling widely, in her element at last, doing what she was born to do. Brett Random covered her back, hacking viciously about him, making up with dogged determination what he lacked in style, practicing for the first time the deadly skills he'd learned from Rose.
Saturday roamed here and there, crashing through the trees, blood dripping thickly from his jaws and foreclaws and lashing spiked tail.
The bodies of the dead piled up around the party, blocking the trail ahead and behind. And still the monsters pressed forward, hauling themselves over the bodies of the fallen to get at the hated invaders, and there seemed no end to their number. Lewis fired his disrupter at one of the trees, hoping to blow the trunk away so the tree would topple and it could be used as a barricade. But the dark-boled tree absorbed the energy blast, and stood firm despite the damage. Lewis just had time to think Tough tree, before a monster almost took his head off for being distracted, and he gave up on the idea.
Jesamine fought on, though her arms were getting tired and her back was already aching from the unaccustomed strain. Lewis's trust in her kept her going. The stench of spilled blood and guts was becoming almost overwhelming. Saturday was jumped by two hulking brutes even bigger than he was. He deftly tore the throat out of one, ducked a flailing clawed hand, and eviscerated the second attacker with one sweep of his forearm. He dug his snout deep into the hole he'd made to snatch a good mouthful of the steaming guts. Rose was having a good time. Killing aliens wasn't nearly as much fun as killing people, but blood was blood and suffering was suffering, and she was happy to be facing a real challenge at last. Besides, she had something to prove after being taken down so easily by the Ashrai Carrion on Unseeli. He had hurt her pride, and she would not stand for that.
And Brett… did well enough, until the press of the fighting somehow swept him away from the others. In a moment he was all on his own, cutting wildly about him, so turned around he didn't even know which way the others were. With Rose out of sight, his confidence quickly faltered and was gone. What am I doing… I'm not a fighter! Barbed fingers came out of nowhere to dig deep furrows across his brow. He lashed out blindly with his sword, and felt as much as heard the blade shatter against a tree trunk. He threw the sword hilt at whatever was before him, and then his nerve broke and he turned and ran. Blood poured down his face, and he had to spit it out, crying out loud for help he knew wasn't going to come. So he summoned up his esp, and used his power of mental compulsion to hide him from the surrounding monsters. It must have worked, because nothing bothered him, and soon he found himself back in the clearing where the ship had landed. He ran over to one of the larger creatures the Hereward's weapons had shot down earlier, and he crawled into the gaping hole in its abdomen. He curled up into a fetal ball, inside the creature, hugging his knees tightly to his chest, not noticing the stench or the heat or the horrid moist softness around him. Tears ran down his face, cutting furrows through the drying blood, until finally he closed his eyes, like a child hiding from threatening shadows in the night.
And then, from out of the jungle darkness an almost human voice called out Stop! and all the fighting broke off in a moment. The monsters backed slowly away from the beleagured party, forming a wide circle around the three humans and the reptiloid. Lewis look warily about him, breathing harshly, not lowering his sword or his gun. He could hear Jesamine gasping for breath behind him, but he didn't dare turn to see whether she was hurt. He tensed as a single creature stepped slowly forward to face him. It was huge and bulky, its glistening albino skin tightly distended by the great muscles covering its ungainly frame. Solid bone spikes protruded from its arms and shoulders, and clustered on the broad chest. Even the long, bony, equine head was tipped with rows of barbs. Three sickly pink eyes, all color and no iris, studied Lewis intently, and it took him a moment to realize the creature wasn't looking at his face but at his right hand. He raised the hand slightly, hefting his sword, and the creature cried out. Its misshapen mouth had trouble with the words, but still they were human, familiar words.
"Deathstalker! A Deathstalker has come to us! See the ring, the ring… It is the prophecy!"
And from all around came distorted voices, saying Deathstalker and prophecy, like a great murmuring chorus. Still saying the words, over and over, the monsters knelt to Lewis, or crouched down if they could not kneel, or at least bowed their great heads to him, saying his name, their gleaming eyes fixed on the black-gold Deathstalker ring on his finger. Lewis lowered his sword and his gun, honestly at a loss for anything to say.
"You know, I used to have to sing three arias and an encore to get a reaction like that," said Jesamine. She leaned wearily against Lewis, and he put an arm around her. "What the hell is going on here, Lewis? Why aren't they trying to kill us anymore? And how do they know what a Deathstalker is, let alone recognize the ring? Do they think you're Owen?"
"I don't think so," said Lewis. "That one there said a Deathstalker had come. Like they'd been expecting one. Still, as long as it stops the fighting, I'm not complaining. And don't you say a word, Rose, I am not in the mood." He put away his sword and his gun, and turned off his force shield. The monsters watched him silently, eyes glittering. Lewis addressed the one who'd spoken first. "I'm Lewis Deathstalker. Descendant of Owen. Uh… you can all get up now. If you want."
The monsters rose up, but held their places. They looked at Lewis expectantly, as though waiting for something. Finally the albino creature cocked its long head unnaturally far to one side, and forced more words out of its misshapen mouth. "You are surprised that we can speak, Deathstalker. That we can reason. We were not always monst
ers. We are the Empire's droppings, its rejects, its discards. It was long ago, but some of us still remember what it was like to be human. Some of us were taken and altered in the laboratories of Shub, others were the subjects of experiments by Lionstone's scientists. Some of us remember Silo Nine and Wormboy Hell. They all did their work well—so well that we live on and on, even though many of us would rather die than be what they made us. The only hope we have ever had is you, Deathstalker; that one of your Clan would come here, bearing the ring, to be our savior. Will you permit us to escort you to our city?"
"Jesus," said Jesamine. "You've got a city?"
"Yes," said the albino, trying something that might have been a smile. "We're not monsters all the time."
"All right," said Lewis. "Let's see how much weirder this planet can get. Do you guarantee our safety, my own and all my companions ?
"Of course. You are the Deathstalker."
"Do you think we can trust it?" Jesamine murmured in Lewis's ear.
"Do we have a choice? Not a word, Rose." Lewis bowed to the albino. "Lead the way, Sir… Do you have a name?"
"Yes," said the albino. "But we have all sworn never to use our old names until we are made human again. And you couldn't pronounce what they call me now. This way."
"Hold everything," said Rose. "Where's Brett?"
They all looked around them. Rose moved away to check among the bodies of the fallen. Jesamine tugged surreptitiously at Lewis's arm to get his attention, and then murmured in his ear.
"These creatures expect to be made human again? They were dumped here because nothing could be done for them. What do they expect you to do?"
"I don't know," Lewis said quietly. "And all this talk of a prophecy worries me. I'm no one's savior."
"He's not here," said Rose, coming back to join them. "But he's not dead. I would have felt it, if he'd been killed." She looked slowly around her, and then pointed positively at the clearing they'd come from. "He's hiding. Poor Brett. He's always hiding."
She went back into the clearing to look for him. Lewis and the others stayed where they were, because the monsters got visibly restless at the thought of their Deathstalker going away again. Rose walked slowly into the clearing, turning her head back and forth as though listening for something only she could hear. She and Brett were linked, mind to mind, now and forever, and even his esp compulsion couldn't hide him from her. She found him, huddled inside the stinking guts of a dead monster. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out. He tried to resist her, howling miserably, but he was no match for her strength. She sat him down with his back against the carcass, and mopped the blood from his face with the rag she usually used to clean her sword. He finally recognized who she was, and then he burst into fresh tears, throwing his arms around her and holding her tightly to him. Rose let him, holding herself still. He put his tired head on her leathered shoulder, exhausted by fighting and panic and tears, and she slowly put an arm around him, to support his weight.
"I don't belong here," Brett said wretchedly into her shoulder. "I'm not a hero, not a fighter. I'm not up to this. And I lost my sword."
"We'll get you another one," said Rose. She wasn't used to offering comfort, but she did her best. She thought she understood the concept now, even if she never felt the need for it herself. She wouldn't have done it for anyone else, but Brett… was different. She patted him tentatively on the shoulder, and even rocked him a little. "You stick close to me, Brett. As long as you're with me, you'll be fine."
His tears dried away into sniffles, and she got him back on his feet again. She tugged at his clothes here and there, trying to tidy him up, and then gave it up as a bad job. Brett had a hard time looking presentable even under the best of circumstances. She led him back to the others, who were politely pleased to see he was all right. No one said anything about his running off and leaving them. This was Brett, after all.
"Interesting new smell you've brought back with you," said Jesamine. "If it was any stronger you'd have to have it on a leash."
Brett ignored her, looking glumly about him at the watching monsters. "Am I to assume we're all chums now? And they don't mind about all their fellow nasties we blew up, shot the shit out of, and generally sliced to pieces?"
"This is Shandrakor," said the albino. "Everything dies here."
"I want to go home," said Brett.
Everyone took turns to explain the situation to him, and then again more slowly when he refused to believe it, and then finally they all set off towards whatever monsters considered a city. They made fairly quick progress through the jungle, the larger creatures going on ahead to spread the word and break open new trail where necessary. The four humans huddled together, followed by Saturday, and tried not to react to the growing number of creatures surrounding them. Word— or something very like it—passed rapidly through the monster population, and it seemed like every living thing in the jungle had come to witness the arrival of the prophecied Deathstalker. Jesamine tried to make a joke about whether they were inviting the humans to dinner, or to be dinner, but was so nervous she messed up the punchline and quickly fell silent again. Rose was practically holding Brett up as they walked together. Lewis made a point of talking with the albino monster, trying to draw him out about Shandrakor's more recent history.
"We were abandoned here," said the albino, looking straight ahead as he talked. "We were an embarrassment to an Empire that had rescued us but couldn't cure us, and then couldn't bear to look at us. We were left here to live or die; they didn't care which. Perhaps they were counting on the native monsters to finish us off, when they didn't have the guts to do it themselves. But we survived. The native creatures were no match for us. We were smarter than they were, even if we weren't all that we used to be. We understood the value of working together, of setting traps and ambushes. It occupied us; gave us something to do. It wasn't long before we dominated the native creatures, and began interbreeding with them. Don't look so shocked, Deathstalker. We have human thoughts, but inhuman appetites and instincts. That is part of our torture. It has been hard to hang on to our humanity down the years… to our memories, and our souls.
"At first, many of us were uncertain whether we even wished to survive; that perhaps the only comfort left to us was to be found in death. Some defied their instincts, to sit quietly and starve themselves to death. But then Shub intervened. They sent emissaries, the steel robots. Many of us destroyed the robots on sight, remembering Shub only as the enemies of Humanity, and our tormentors. But they persisted, and finally we listened to what they had to say. It took us a long time to really believe they had changed and seriously wished to make amends, even if they couldn't undo what they had done to us. They gave us their creed, their own new belief, that All that lives is holy. Even monsters like us. And they gave us a prophecy, that someday a Deathstalker would come to us, and that would be the beginning of the end of our suffering. A Deathstalker would set us free. That was long ago, and many times we have thought that Shub just told us that to give us hope, to keep us going… but here you are. Searching as Owen did, for the Last Standing of your ancestors. For the ancient castle wherein miracles are born."
Lewis said nothing. He didn't want to be a disappointment to the monsters. He had a strong feeling that might not be safe.
And finally they came to the city the monsters had made for themselves. Lewis and the others could smell it long before they could see it, but even the appalling stench did nothing to prepare them for the grim reality. The trees just fell away suddenly to reveal a massive clearing, carved raggedly out of the jungle by crude tools and brute force. And in that clearing, the city. Lewis and his people stopped and stared at it in disbelief, as they realized what it was. Brett made choking sounds. Jesamine shook her head slowly.
"No. This is just too much. Lewis, I can't do this…"
"You can do it," Lewis said firmly. "We all can. Just… tough it out, Jes. You're stronger than you think. Try breathing through your mouth, see
if that helps. And Brett, control yourself. We really don't want to upset our hosts."
"Oh, hell," Brett said miserably. "Just look at it…"
The city was a nightmare, a necropolis, a city born out of death. A great sprawling place of rounded dwellings and blocky towers constructed entirely out of bone and meat and sinews. The fleshy parts had been roughly cured to make them last longer, but there were signs of slow decomposition and constant ongoing repair everywhere. Dead monsters hundreds of feet long had been cored out and turned into halls, and the towers were lattices of yellowing bones. The whole place stank of the charnel house; of blood and death and corruption only temporarily held at bay. Nothing normal or sane could have lived in such a city—only monsters. It grew larger and larger as Lewis and his party walked unsteadily towards it, stretching out before them, a dwelling place for the damned, a city of crimson and purple and festering yellows.
"We had nothing else to build with," said the albino. "The trees are too hard to be worked, and what stone there is, is buried too deep for our crude tools to reach. The Empire left us nothing. So we made our city out of the remains of the fallen. It has grown much in two hundred years. Nothing lasts, of course. Everything decays eventually, and it all has to be replaced, over and over. But on a world like this, there's never any shortage of raw materials."
Lewis was stunned by the sheer size and scale of the city, by the great towers of bone and gut, and the long low buildings of discolored meat with dark veins still marbling the glistening surfaces, and his mind boggled at the thought of how many dead bodies must have gone into creating and maintaining the city down the long years. Jesamine clung tightly to his arm, staring fixedly straight ahead, murmuring quietly to herself a litany of prayers and expletives. Behind them, Lewis could hear Brett whimpering. The albino led the way through the main gate, formed from the distended skull of a creature so huge Lewis didn't even want to think about it. Beyond lay an open square packed full of monsters, and as they saw Lewis, every one of them kneeled or bent the head to him. A low murmur moved among them. Prophecy, prophecy…
Deathstalker Return Page 29
