Deathstalker (71 page)

“Can you translate any of those scratchings?” Hazel said finally.

“Show a little respect,” said Owen, without looking away from the door. “I’ve seen similar symbols on some extremely obscure records from nine centuries ago, but I think this is some kind of variant or dialect. It’s got absolutely nothing at all in common with standard Imperial characters. I doubt there are a dozen scholars in the Empire apart from me who would even recognize it.”

“All right, aristo, we’re impressed,” said Ruby Journey. “But can you read it? What does it say?”

“Essentially: Go away. Do not pass through this door or something extremely nasty will happen to you. Only it’s not
a threat. I think it’s a warning. … You’re being very quiet, Giles. Anything you’d like to volunteer about this door?”

“Well, I can tell you one interesting thing about it. It wasn’t here the last time I was here. None of this was. It was just an ordinary cavern, hacked out of the solid rock by the Wolflings.”

“I’ll tell you something else interesting,” said Jack Random. “That door doesn’t have a reflection in the floor.”

Owen looked down automatically. He could see his own reflection in the silver floor, and those of his companions, but there was no trace at all of the door. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably as a cold wind caressed his neck.

“So what do we do now, ancestor?” he said finally, looking back at Giles. “What’s supposed to be here?”

“This should be the entrance to Wolfling territory and the way to the Madness Maze. You needn’t worry too much about the Wolflings; they’re all dead now, of course, except for the One Who Waits. He should still be around here, somewhere.”

“After nine hundred years?” said Hazel. “You mean he’s in stasis here, like you were?”

“Oh, no,” said Giles. “He’s immortal, you see. They all were, theoretically. That was at least part of the problem. The scientists had come up with a way to live forever, but you had to be a Wolfling for it to work. And the Wolflings, whatever else they might have been, were very definitely not human. At least, not as we understand the term. Their minds worked … differently. No, he should still be here. The last of his kind. Waiting.”

“Who for?” said Ruby Journey.

“You’re welcome to ask him when you meet him,” said Giles. “Personally, I could never get an answer out of him that made sense.”

“Thanks a whole bunch,” said Owen. “That clarifies everything. Oz, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Owen,” said Ozymandius in his ear. “I’m watching everything through your implants. Unfortunately, the castle’s sensors are unable to penetrate beyond where you are now. Something is definitely blocking them. I can see the outlines of the artificial territories, but not what’s in them. Except to say that for some of my readings to make sense, there’d have to be one hell of a power source somewhere close at
hand. There’re some really strange energies down where you are, Owen. Wish I could be more helpful, but for the time being I can only see what you see, which personally makes me very glad I’m not there.”

“Any recommendations?”

“Go through the door and see what happens.”

“Thanks a lot, Oz.” Owen studied the door carefully and then looked back at the others. “Unknown metal, maybe six inches thick. A disrupter should make a useful-sized hole in it. Or we could let Hazel try out one of those monster guns she’s carrying. She’s been dying for a chance to let rip with one. Or we could keep it simple and use explosives. What do you think, Giles?”

“I think we should keep it civilized and try knocking first.” Giles looked at Owen severely, and he had the grace to blush slightly. Giles moved forward to stand beside him, and the others followed. “We can’t get to the Madness Maze without passing through Wolfling territory. And I really don’t think that smashing down his front door is the best way to make a good first impression.”

“Sorry,” said Owen. “I’ve fallen into bad company lately.”

He turned to the metal door, took a deep breath and knocked twice. The metal was strangely warm under his knuckles, and the sound was very quiet, as though the door had somehow soaked it up. There was a long pause, just long enough for Owen to wonder if he should knock again, and then the door swung silently open, revealing a dark and brooding forest.

Tall trees crowded together on either side of a narrow earth path, the thick foliage so dark a green as to seem almost black. An umber glow fell down past the trees in long shafts of dust-filled light. There was a thick, solid smell of earth and mulch and growing things. Owen got as close to the opening as he could without actually passing through it, and strained his eyes against the gloom to see how far back the trees went, but there seemed no end to them. The others crowded in behind Owen, murmuring quietly to each other. There was something about the forest that demanded quiet and respect, like a living cathedral.

“Well?” Owen said finally to Giles. “Was this here the last time you were here?”

“Oh, yes,” said the original Deathstalker. “I remember
this. It’s a sanctuary the Wolflings built for themselves, terraforming it out of the cold rock. What more would wolves need than a forest to run and hunt in?”

“Is it safe?” said Owen.

“How should I know?” said Giles. “A lot could have changed in the nine hundred and forty-three years since I was last here.”

“Great,” said Owen. “Wonderful. All right, pay attention everyone. Anybody else feel like leading the way? No? I didn’t think so. Follow me, then. Hazel, you tuck in right behind me and keep that big gun of yours at the ready. Let’s try and be calm about this, people, but feel free to blast large holes in anything that looks dangerous. This doesn’t strike me as safe territory. Something here is tugging at my instincts and putting my nerves on edge. Everyone stay close, but don’t crowd each other. And don’t go off on your own under any circumstances. I think this could be a really unfriendly place to be lost in. When we meet the Wolfling, remember we’re guests here, so mind your manners and watch the bad language.”

“He really does like making speeches, doesn’t he?” said Ruby.

“It’s part of his charm,” said Hazel.

“What charm?”

“Precisely.”

Owen didn’t look back at them. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He checked his sword and his guns to be sure they were ready to hand, and stepped through the doorway. The heat hit him like a smothering blanket, and he almost stopped, but he made himself go on. The rich dark smell of the forest was almost overpowering, and the heavy heat brought sweat to his face that evaporated almost as fast as it formed. The bare earth path was firm under his boots, but not level, and he didn’t need to be told that no machinery had ever traveled this route. Owen kept walking, doing his best to appear casual and totally at ease, just in case anyone was watching. The light in the forest was dim and slightly diffused, as though a very fine mist filled the air. Owen glanced back to make sure the others were still with him, and almost missed a step as he saw the forest stretching far away behind him, till it disappeared into its own gloom. The open door stood alone in the middle of the trail, with only a glimpse of the silver plain to be seen through the
doorway, like a glimpse of another world. As he watched, the great metal door slammed shut with a quiet, emphatic thud.

“Ever get the feeling that someone’s trying to tell you something?” said Hazel.

“I think we can safely assume someone knows we’re here,” said Owen. “Which is just as well. I have a strong feeling we’re not going to get very far around here without a friendly guide.”

“I don’t like the idea of our retreat being cut off,” said Random. “Our only way back to the Standing is via the transfer portal, and that’s on the other side of the door, which I will lay good odds we won’t be able to open.”

“He has a point,” said Owen. “I don’t even know how it opened from the other side.”

“We could blast it,” said Ruby.

“Yeah,” said Hazel, hefting her heavy gun with great enthusiasm.

“Let’s keep that as a last option,” said Giles. “We’re supposed to be here as friends, remember? If we follow this trail, it should lead us to the Wolfling. Lead on, Owen, and try not to step on anything delicate.”

“Hold it,” said Ruby. “Can anyone tell me what’s wrong with this picture?” They all looked around them, and then back at Ruby. She smiled briefly. “The quiet. No birds, no movement, even the air is still. Apart from the trees, I’d say we’re the only living things here.”

“Of course,” said Giles. “This isn’t a real forest. It’s an artificial construct the Wolflings built to make themselves feel more comfortable. Those aren’t real trees, anymore than this is real sunlight.”

Owen frowned. “You mean these trees are fakes?”

“Oh, they’re real enough. Alive, too, just artificial. How else do you think they’ve survived down here all these centuries?”

Owen decided he wasn’t going to ask any more questions. He didn’t like the answers he was getting. He set off down the path, and the others followed him. They walked for a while in silence, the soft thudding of their feet on the packed earth barely enough to disturb the quiet. If anything, the air seemed to be getting hotter. Owen didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not. Before coming down, he’d asked Ozymandius how cold it was likely to be in the depths of the
planet, and the AI’s answer had not been at all reassuring. Apparently the Standing’s sensors didn’t normally record readings that low anywhere apart from deep space. Cold with a capital C, the AI had said. Better wear your woolly underwear. However, once Giles had activated the transfer portal, the ship’s sensors immediately registered a rise in the temperature to acceptable levels in the portal’s immediate vicinity. Which suggested that not only was someone or something still running the systems down below, but that someone or something now knew they were coming. Owen just wished they’d turn the heating down a notch. And then he rounded a corner in the trail and came to a sudden halt as he saw exactly what was waiting for him.

His first response was to grab for his disrupter, and he only fought the impulse down with an effort. The tall figure standing motionlessly some way ahead was most possibly the most dangerous thing he’d ever seen in his life, including the aliens of the murderous jungles of Shandrakor. The others piled up behind him, but apparently one glimpse over his shoulder was enough to convince them that they didn’t want to get any closer either.

The figure had a man’s shape, but it didn’t stand like a man. Easily eight feet tall, its broad shaggy head had a definite lupine shape. Intimidatingly wide shoulders swelled out into a barrel chest that plunged into a long, narrow waist. The figure was covered in thick golden fur from the top of its long-eared head to the large paws that served as its feet. The legs curved back like a wolf’s, and something in the way the figure stood suggested it would be just as happy running on four legs as two. The furred hands had long, jagged claws, and long teeth gleamed a dirty yellow in the grinning mouth. The eyes were the most disturbing feature. They were large and intelligent and almost overpoweringly ferocious. The rebels had found the Wolfling. Or he had found them.

Owen licked his suddenly dry lips and couldn’t make himself move his hand away from his gun. The Wolfling was standing as though he might attack at any moment, and Owen had no doubt it would take a damn sight more than his sword to stop him. Giles had called the Wolfling the ultimate predator, a genetically designed killing machine, and now that he’d seen him, Owen agreed completely. Just standing there he was a threat, only an impulse away from
an unstoppable killing rage, and everything from his savage glare to his viciously clawed hands marked him as a wild and uncontrollable force. He growled softly, and all the hair on Owen’s head tried to stand up. Owen swallowed hard. Beyond trying to shoot the beast, he was at a loss for what to do. Apart from a suicidal urge to walk up to the Wolfling, pat him on the head and say “Nice doggy!” He pushed that thought aside very firmly as the Wolfling growled again, and he glanced back over his shoulder.

“Giles,” he said, very quietly and calmly. “I think he wants to talk to you.”

The original Deathstalker pushed his way through the others to stand at Owen’s side. He bowed formally to the creature before him and smiled easily. “Hello, Wulf. Been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Not long enough,” growled the Wolfling. His words were low and harsh, but not especially threatening. “Every time you come here, you bring me trouble. What bad news have you brought this time?”

“The Empire is right behind us,” said Giles. “They want the Device, and to hell with what it costs them. I mean to get it before they do. That means going through the Maze. Which means we’re a little pushed for time. Will you help?”

“Always time to greet old friends,” said the Wolfling, grinning easily. It was not a pleasant sight. He moved forward with sudden grace and embraced the Deathstalker, the large man almost lost in the great furry hug. They laughed together, and the Wolfling released him. He studied Giles with his head cocked on one side. “You said you’d be back someday, but after nine hundred years I’d almost given up hope. Damn, boy, it’s good to see you again. But I see you have company. Introduce us, and I’ll decide whether or not to eat them.”

He grinned his unnerving grin again as Giles made the introductions. Owen assumed the Wolfling had been joking, on the grounds he found it too worrying to believe otherwise. Hazel bobbed her head politely, but kept her gun trained on the beast. Ruby didn’t even bother to be polite. Random smiled warmly, and even shook the clawed hand without missing a beat. Presumably in his time as rebel leader he’d learned to be diplomatic with all sorts of allies. The Wolfling and the Hadenman just looked at each other for a long moment, and then looked away, as though they’d decided to
call it quits for the time being. Owen wondered what the two artificially created beings thought of each other; two bastard sons of man’s ingenuity. Jealousy, perhaps?

When his time came, Owen made himself shake the Wolfling’s hand. It wasn’t as bad as he’d thought; it was just like shaking a hand in a very thick glove. As long as you didn’t look at the claws. They were long and thick, the deep yellow coated with dark smudges that might have been dried blood, or might not. Owen decided he wouldn’t ask. Up close, the towering beast smelled heavy and rank, a strong animal scent that lifted the hairs on the back of Owen’s neck again in a pure atavistic response. He smiled bravely and let go of the Wolfling’s hand as soon as he properly could. The beast turned back to Giles.