Deathstalker Return (8 page)

Lewis held her in his arms, and said nothing. The Ashrai were certainly impressive and powerful, but it would take more than a pretty tune to convince him that they were friends. Hundreds of people had died in the past, just for daring to visit Unseeli. And while the Ashrai were undeniably mighty, they still looked ugly as sin itself to him. And bloody dangerous too. He tensed as a single Ashrai broke away from the others circling overhead, and dropped out of the sky towards them. Lewis didn’t push Jesamine away, but he did turn her round so he could get to his gun more easily. The Ashrai seemed to grow larger and larger as it fell towards them. Lewis estimated it had to be at least forty feet from gargoyle head to spiny tail, with almost as wide a wingspan. The wings flapped heavily as it landed, cupping the air, and the great clawed feet touched down with hardly an impact. The golden wings folded neatly away upon the shimmering silver back, and the Ashrai folded its muscular arms across its massive chest as it regarded them all with unblinking golden eyes. Rose Constantine drew her sword.

“I have to do this,” she said cheerfully. “I have to
know.
Damn, you ugly brute, you make me feel so
hot
. . .”

She surged forward, sword held out before her, grinning broadly. The Ashrai reared up, raised one massive foot, and stamped on her. She was slammed to the unforgiving ground, almost disappearing under the huge foot. Her sword flew from her hand as the impact crushed the air from her lungs. Brett shrieked, turned, and sprinted for the cover of the trees. Lewis shook his head slowly.

“Saturday?”

“Yes, Lewis?”

“Fetch.”

The reptiloid nodded and set off after Brett, his long stride rapidly eating up the distance between them. Lewis gently put Jesamine away from him, and cautiously approached the Ashrai. The harsh face studied him thoughtfully with its glowing golden eyes. Up close, its heavy breathing sounded like thunder, though it smelt of nothing at all. Damn, the creature was big. Lewis cleared his throat carefully.

“Hi. I’m Lewis Deathstalker. Nice moves. Could we please have our psychopath back? She’s impulsive and annoying, and has several appalling personal habits that you really don’t want to know about, but she has a certain sentimental value. If you let her up, I’m pretty sure I can guarantee she won’t try that again. Or anything else, until she can get her eyeballs uncrossed.”

The Ashrai considered the matter, nodded its awful head, and stepped back, raising its huge foot. Lewis and Jesamine dragged Rose out from under, and set her down with her back propped against a tree. She was having trouble getting her eyes to track, but she seemed to know who and where she was.

“Caught me by surprise,” she said thickly. “Get me on my feet and find my sword and I’ll tear his wings off and beat him to death with the soggy ends.”

“No, you won’t,” said Lewis. “You behave yourself and stop embarrassing me, or I’ll shoot you myself.”

“You do realize,” said Rose, “That if anyone else spoke to me like that I’d fillet them? Good thing for you that I’m a little under the weather. And that you’re a Deathstalker.”

“Yeah,” growled Lewis. “Lucky me.”

Saturday came striding back with Brett tucked securely under one arm. Brett was calling him every name under the sun, and Lewis really hoped the reptiloid didn’t understand most of them. Saturday dropped Brett at Lewis’s feet, and glowered down at him.

“Next time, I’ll bite off something superfluous. Fleeing in the face of the enemy? The very idea. What kind of impression does that make?”

Brett clambered painfully back to his feet. “Sorry. Trained reflexes. Also, bone deep cowardice. I did warn you. How’s Rose doing?”

“When I can trust my feet again, I’m going to kill everything in this clearing,” said Rose.

“Back to normal,” said Brett. “You go talk to the monster, Sir Deathstalker. I’ll look after Rose. From a safe distance.”

And then they all stopped talking and looked round sharply as the Ashrai reared up again, presenting its wide curved chest to them. The shimmering silver scales split suddenly apart, unfolding like a rose, and out of the pink interior of the Ashrai walked a man, dressed all in black. He strode unhurriedly towards Lewis and his companions, and behind him the opening in the Ashrai’s chest slowly closed itself. And then the huge alien was gone, vanished in a moment, as though it had never been there. Only the man remained. He came to a halt before Lewis. Tall and whipcord lean, he wore black leathers topped with a billowing black cape. He was dark-haired and pale faced, his features subtly ageless. His mouth was a grim flat line, his eyes dark and accusing. He carried a long staff of polished bone, almost as tall as he was. His movements weren’t entirely human. Just looking at the man sent shivers up Lewis’s spine. He knew who this was, who this had to be. He could feel Jesamine pressing in close beside him, like a frightened child.

“You are the Deathstalker?” It was the same rasping, inhuman voice they’d heard on the ship.

“Yes. I’m Lewis Deathstalker, descendant of the blessed Owen.”

“I am Carrion,” said the man dressed in black, though he didn’t sound entirely sure of it. “I have been an Ashrai for many years. I haven’t been human since John Silence and I returned to this world. I’d forgotten how small and limited a thing it is, to be a man. Even your thoughts are smaller. I have descended from the skies to talk with you. It had better be worth it.”

“No one speaks like that,” said Brett. “Not in real life.”

“You’d better let me talk to him,” said Jesamine. “I speak fluent opera.”

“Let me get this straight,” said Brett. “That alien—that was actually you? You changed from a human into that . . . thing?”

Carrion looked at Lewis. “These people are with you?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Lewis. “I’d apologize for them, but it’s a waste of time. Feel free to ignore them. I do.”

Carrion turned the full force of his dark, disturbing gaze on Brett, who immediately darted behind Lewis and peered past his shoulder.

“It is a glorious thing, to be an Ashrai,” said Carrion. “It’s what I always wanted. I was happy to leave my humanity behind, as something I had outgrown. And now, here you are, to remind me of what I wished most to forget. What do you want with me, Deathstalker? You mentioned the Terror. How can they be here so soon?”

“It’s been two hundred years since the blessed Owen’s warning,” said Lewis.

“Has it?” said Carrion. “I hadn’t realized. The Ashrai experience time differently. For us, yesterday is the distant past, and the distant past is yesterday. You’re the first human I’ve talked to since I said good-bye to the captain and gave up human weaknesses to be an Ashrai. You’ll pardon me if I’ve lost the knack.”

“Why did you want to meet us here?” said Lewis, gesturing at the abandoned base. Not so much because he cared, but to buy himself some thinking time. This wasn’t going at all as he’d expected.

Carrion looked at Base Thirteen. “This is the only human structure left on the planet. We keep it as a reminder never to lower our guard. I thought it might help me remember how to be human again. It hasn’t been a working base for centuries. All the mines and mining equipment it oversaw are long gone now, absorbed and recycled by the trees. But still, this is a place of . . . strong memories, for me. Bad things happened here. Do they still tell the story of the terrible events at Base Thirteen? Of the unknown alien, and the awful gifts it brought?”

Lewis and the others looked at each other. Lewis shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m afraid not, Sir Carrion. Much of the history of your time is lost to us. Only legends remain. And you are only mentioned briefly, in the . . . unofficial legends.”

Carrion smiled for the first time. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Captain Silence made it into the official legends, I assume? Of course he did. He was a hero, after all. While I . . . was a traitor, and proud of it. I fought with the Ashrai, in their war against Humanity. I killed men and women from my own crew—until Captain Silence scorched this planet from orbit, and killed every living thing on Unseeli except for the trees and me.” He smiled again, at their shocked expressions. “Oh, yes, children, your great hero John Silence committed genocide here, in the name of his Empire. Some years later, Owen brought the Ashrai back. Made Unseeli a living world again. That’s why the Deathstalker name buys you this audience.” He looked again at Base Thirteen. “I was an Investigator, once. Trained by the Empire on how best to study and murder aliens. But even so, nothing in my experience prepared me for the horror Captain Silence and I found in this dark place.

“An alien from an unknown species came to Unseeli, from out of the endless night beyond the Rim, and its ship crashed near here. We’d never seen anything like that ship—grown as much as built, out of meat and bone as well as steel and crystal. We cut open one of its walls, and guts fell out. But the alien wasn’t there. It had already made its way to Base Thirteen and slaughtered every living thing it found there. Afterwards, it did terrible things with their bodies. We killed the alien, eventually. John Silence, I, the young esper Diana Vertue, and Investigator Frost. John. My friend, my enemy. We were always so close; bound together and torn apart by honor and responsibility.

“The alien ship isn’t here anymore. Empire scientists took it away, to study, and from its alien technology they devised the next generation of stardrives—the E class—and more, besides. The alien we killed was just the forerunner of a very advanced, very deadly species. John and I always expected more of them would come, to challenge and invade the Empire, but they never did. Perhaps the Terror got to them first. The universe is a very big place . . .” Carrion looked at Lewis again. “So. Two hundred years. Is John . . . ?”

“John Silence died long ago,” said Lewis. “I’m sorry. There are statues to him all over the Empire.”

“So,” said Carrion. “My only friend is dead. My last link with Humanity is gone.” He said it slowly, as though unsure how he felt about it. “And you’re the new Deathstalker. You look like a warrior, which is more than Owen did, except when he got mad at someone. I only met him a few times. A dark, sad, disturbing figure. A good man, undoubtably, but he scared the shit out of me.”

“Why aren’t you in the official legends?” said Rose. She was back on her feet again, but keeping a respectful distance. “If you were as closely tied to the other heroes as you claim?”

Brett winced. “Gives whole new meaning to the word
blunt,
doesn’t she?”

“They probably left me out because I embarrassed everyone,” said Carrion, entirely unmoved. “I never apologized for my treason. I embraced it. And I never gave a damn for the Empire or Humanity. I only fought alongside John because he asked me to.”

“You mean . . . you didn’t follow the blessed Owen?” said Jesamine.

“Hell, no,” said Carrion. “I knew enough to stay well clear of him. He had that hero stink all over him. And everyone knows that heroes die young, and bloody, and mostly take their friends and companions down with them.” He smiled coldly at Lewis. “Just like you will, Deathstalker.”

Lewis decided it was definitely time to change the subject. His hopes of persuading Carrion to join him were looking increasingly remote. “Tell us about the heroes you knew, Sir Carrion. We know only the legends. What were they really like?”

Carrion frowned, and for the first time seemed uncertain. “When heroes become legends, so much of the truth is always lost. I knew men and women, flesh and blood. Important figures, yes, but still . . . They were people first, flawed and vulnerable—which perhaps makes their heroism all the greater. Owen—perhaps the only real hero I ever met. Death on two legs. Honorable, brave, damned. Knew he wouldn’t live to see the end of his war, but never let that stop him from doing what he knew to be right. Hazel—a free spirit, no matter what it cost her. A scrapper, a rebel, never giving too much of herelf to anyone for fear it would be betrayed. She really should have known better than to love a Deathstalker.

“I never really knew or trusted Jack Random or Ruby Journey. I always knew they had their own agendas. And I never met the Hadenman, before he died, or afterward. No, I was only there because John needed someone to be his friend, to be his good right hand and guard his back. For all the death and suffering and broken promises between us, he was still a better man than he thought he was. He never really got over the death of his one true love, Investigator Frost.”

He stopped as he took in the blank, puzzled looks on their faces. “Am I to take it she didn’t make it into the official legends either?”

“Not even the apocrypha, as far as I know,” said Lewis. “Who was she, Sir Carrion?”

Carrion shook his head slowly. “She deserved to be remembered. She and John made a great team. Unstoppable. She went into the Madness Maze, and survived. Hell of a fighter. She was cold and vicious and I never liked her. Hell, I don’t think anyone did but John, but I respected her. He loved her, even though she was an Investigator. I don’t know whether she ever loved him. Whether she was capable of it. She died in his arms, in Lionstone’s Court. It doesn’t seem right that she should be forgotten . . .

“Let’s talk about the Terror. There was a voice that came out of nowhere after the Recreated had been defeated and then reborn as the new Rim worlds. I never knew whose voice it was. It said the Ashrai were originally created for a purpose, not just to tend the metallic trees. They are old, the Ashrai, and they have forgotten much. Perhaps it is their purpose and their fate to battle the Terror. Perhaps you serve their destiny in coming here. You said you were outlaws, like Owen and his people. What happened? And why are you here?”

“We’re hoping to track down the missing Owen Deathstalker and Hazel d’Ark,” said Jesamine. “Our dearest legend is that Owen will return to save us all, in the hour of the Empire’s greatest need. If anyone knows how to stop the Terror, it’s got to be him. No one else is going to. The Empire’s a mess. A complete psychopath’s running things, we were all outlawed for not going along with him, and the Golden Age is going down the toilet.”