Deathstalker Return (39 page)

“Ugly place,” said Jesamine, standing beside him. “Seriously ugly, with a side order of revolting. What
is
that smell?”

“You don’t want to know,” said Lewis. “Turn on your force shield, Jes.”

“They’ve stopped attacking.”

“They could start again anytime. Do it for me, Jes.”

“If it’ll make you happy, darling . . .”

“I like this place,” Saturday said happily. “It’s like coming home. If only there were some mists, and a lot of mud and some half-eaten corpses lying around to play with, it would be perfect.”

“Can I vote that the reptiloid not be allowed to speak again, ever?” said Brett. “This is a terrible place! It stinks. Literally. Damn it, the smell’s so bad I can taste it! And it’s hot. Again. How come we never go anywhere with air-conditioning?” He bent down to pick up a single leaf that had been carried into the clearing along with the attack, only to immediately swear loudly and throw it away again. “Bloody thing’s got razor-sharp edges! It cut me! Oh, God, I’m going to develop some disgusting jungle disease, I just know it. Probably have all my extremities swell up and drop off. I think I’d better go back to the ship and have a little lie down, just in case. You can’t be too careful . . .”

“Stand still, man,” said Lewis, smiling in spite of himself. “How come it always happens to you, Brett? Look, from now on, don’t touch
anything.
I know that goes against your nature, but do try.”

“Don’t see why you need me anyway,” the con man said sullenly. “There’s nothing here to steal, and I do not do monster fighting.”

“I want you around in case we have to crack some computers at the Standing,” Lewis said patiently. “Jenny Psycho said there might be weapons and tech there we can use. Oz, have you been able to make contact with the Standing?”

“Not a thing yet,” said the AI. “If the castle is here, it’s really well shielded.”

“All right, close the airlock and take the
Hereward
back up into orbit. Let me know the minute any other ships show up here. And be ready to swoop down and pick us up at a moment’s notice.”

“Understood,” said the AI. “Have fun!”

The
Hereward
lifted smoothly into the air, and then shot up into the sky and was quickly lost to sight. Brett looked after it yearningly.

“How far is it to where the Standing crashed?” said Jesamine.

Lewis grimaced unhappily. “Well, now we come to Part Two of the bad news. According to the very exact coordinates supplied by my father, we should be standing right on top of it. But if it is here, I can’t see any sign of it. Still, not to worry, it’s always possible the data became corrupted, down the years.”

“Oh, great,” said Brett. “As if things weren’t bad enough; we’re lost too.”

“Perhaps someone didn’t trust your branch of the family enough to provide you with the true coordinates,” said Rose.

“That’s possible, yes,” Lewis said easily. “But the truth is that no one actually saw where the Standing went down. All the people on board had been evacuated long before Jenny Psycho steered the castle into this planet’s atmosphere. And she bailed out long before it hit. The exact landing site could only ever have been estimated. I understand there were plans once to come here and recover the castle, so it could be repaired and restored. There was a lot of public sentiment about the Standing, since it had played such a vital part in the last great battle. But my Clan insisted it should be left where it fell; returned at last to where the blessed Owen originally found it. Nobody made too much fuss. In fact, reading between the lines I get the impression Robert and Constance were glad to see the back of it. Partly because they wanted to make it into legend rather than history, and partly because it made them very nervous. The old Standing was said to be full of secrets that even Owen didn’t know about. Very old, very powerful secrets.”

“Are we talking treasure here?” said Brett. “As in, unknown tech, long-lost weapons, and the loot of ages—that sort of thing?”

“Yes, I thought that would perk you up,” said Lewis. “It’s possible, Brett, but even so
I don’t want you touching anything
without checking with me first. Is that clear? According to family legend the Standing is absolutely packed with unpleasant surprises for the unwary.”

“This just gets better and better, doesn’t it?” Jesamine said to no one in particular. “Do we at least have a direction to head in, Lewis?”

“Oh sure. Oz detected faint but definite traces of a very unusual energy signature as we were coming in to land. Maybe two miles from here as the crow flies . . . that way.”

“Oh, great,” said Brett. “More walking.”

“More fighting,” said Saturday happily. “Two whole miles of assorted monsters. Just as well, I was starting to feel distinctly peckish.”

Brett appealed to Lewis. “Can I just make the suggestion that when it’s time to get the hell off this planet, we leave the big guy behind? He said himself he felt at home here.”

“Let’s make a start,” said Lewis, not unsympathetically. “We’ve a lot of ground to cover, and you can bet these creatures are going to make us fight for every inch of it.”

Brett sniffed. “We should have brought more grenades. I said we were going to need more grenades, but no one ever listens to me . . .”

“Shut up, Brett,” said Jesamine.

They headed for the edge of the clearing, Lewis and Rose taking the point. Their personal force shields buzzed loudly in the quiet. Brett and Jesamine stuck in close behind them, while Saturday brought up the rear, to guard the party’s back. He’d wanted to take the point, but Lewis said he thought it should be someone who was more interested in strategy than dinner, and Saturday said he quite understood. There were restless movements in the trees ahead of them, huge shapes glimpsed briefly between the shadows, and the sound of heavy bodies crushing undergrowth. The whole jungle seemed expectant, anticipating blood and slaughter. Lewis gripped his sword fiercely. This wasn’t going to be like fighting terrorists or assassins back on Logres. This was going to be butchery, plain and simple; men against monsters until one side or the other was no longer a threat. The monsters had size and numbers and animal ferocity. He had training, cold steel and an energy weapon. And he was a Deathstalker. That still counted for something.

His party had to pick its way past dozens of piled-up corpses as they crossed the clearing. The
Hereward
’s weapons had done good work. The dead creatures varied in size from a few feet long to some specimens almost as big as the ship itself. Most of them were unpleasant or disturbing to look upon. There was every combination of fur and scale and exoskeleton, with misshapen heads and oversized limbs, and more and bigger claws and teeth than evolution would normally supply. These monstrosities had been designed to be killing machines, to strike terror into all who saw them. And once they’d been dumped here, the hothouse killing jungles of Shandrakor had seen to it that only the most savage, most deadly individuals survived. Most of the bodies had great holes in them, some had been torn apart. A few were still burning steadily. Insects had come out of the jungle to swarm around the steaming carcasses and the great pools of blood. They had bulging bodies and great gauzy wings and vicious stingers. A hell of a lot of them burned up against the party’s force shields before the bugs learned to steer well clear of the party. They didn’t bother Saturday, though occasionally he would snap one out of midair and chew on it thoughtfully.

The air was hot and heavy and full of the stench of death, and they were all sweating hard by the time they reached the edge of the clearing. Lewis stopped them there, and glared into the jungle. There was a fairly wide path of beaten earth leading off between the huge dark trees, disappearing into the jungle gloom after barely a dozen feet. It was all very quiet, very still, but Lewis could feel hostile presences all around, waiting for their prey to come to them. It was as though the whole jungle was holding its breath. Lewis hefted his sword and pointed his disrupter steadily ahead of him.

“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 forwards 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.