Authors: Brian Lumley
The Source (31 page)
By this time, too, he'd had the opportunity to get a good close look at Zek in the extended evening light of Sunside, and he hadn't been disappointed. She had somehow found the time to snatch a wash in a fast-flowing stream, which had served to greatly enhance her fresh, natural beauty. Now she looked good enough to eat, and Jazz felt hungry enough, too, except that would be one hell of a waste.
Zek had wrapped her sore feet in soft rags and now walked on grass and loamy earth instead of stone, and for all that she too was tired her step seemed lighter and most of the worry lines had lifted from her face. While she'd cleaned herself up, Jazz had used the time to study the Travellers.
His original opinion seemed confirmed: they were Gypsies, Romany, and speaking in an antique “Romance” tongue, too. It was hard not to deduce connections with the world he had left behind; maybe Zek would be able to explain some of the similarities. He determined to ask her some time, yet another question to add to a lengthening list. He was surprised how quickly he'd come to rely on her. And he was annoyed to find himself thinking about her when he should be concentrating on his education.
Many of the male Travellers wore rings in the lobes of their left ears, gold by the look of it, to match the bands on their fingers. No lack of that previous metal here, apparently; it decorated in yellow bands the hauling poles of their travois, studded their leather jackets and stitched the seams of their coarse-weave trousers, was even used to stud the leather soles of their sandals! But silver was far less in evidence. Jazz had seen arrows and the bolts of crossbrows tipped with it, but never a sign of the stuff used for decoration. In this world, he would in time discover, it was far more precious than gold. Not least for its effect on vampires.
But the Travellers puzzled Jazz. He found strange, basic anomalies in them beyond his understanding. For example: it seemed to him that in many ways their world was very nearly primal, and yet the Travellers themselves were anything but primitive. Though he'd not yet seen an actual Gypsy caravan here, he knew that they existed: he'd observed a small boy of four or five years, sitting on a loaded, bouncing travois, playing with a rough wooden model. Between its shafts a pair of creatures like overgrown, shaggy sheep, also carved of wood, strained in their tiny harnesses of leather. So they had the wheel, these people, and beasts of burden; even though none were in evidence here. They could work metals, and with their use of the crossbow their weaponry could hardly be considered crude. Indeed, in almost every respect it was seen that theirs was a
sophisticated culture. But on the other hand it was hard to see how, in this environment, they'd achieved any degree of culture at all!
sophisticated culture. But on the other hand it was hard to see how, in this environment, they'd achieved any degree of culture at all!
As for the “tribe” Jazz had expected to see, so far there were no more than sixty Travellers in all: Arlek's party (now fully accepted back into the common body), and Lardis's companions, plus a handful of family groups which had been waiting in a stand of trees to join up with Lardis at the Sunside exit from the pass and head west with him through the foothills. And all of these people going on foot, with the exception of one old woman who lay in a pile of furs upon a travois, and two or three young children who travelled in a similar fashion.
Jazz had studied their faces, taking note of the way they'd every so often turn their heads and stare suspiciously at the sun floating over the southern horizon. Zek had told Jazz that true night was a good forty-five hours away; but still there was an unspoken anxiety, a straining, in the faces of the Travellers, and Jazz believed he knew why. It was that they silently willed themselves westward, desiring only to put distance between themselves and the pass before sundown. And because they knew this world, while Jazz was a newcomer, he found himself growing anxious along with them, and adding his will to theirs.
Keeping his fear to himself, he'd asked Zek: “Where is everyone? I mean, don't tell me this is the entire tribe!”
“No,” she'd told him, shaking her damp hair about her shoulders, “only a fraction of it. Traveller tribes don't go about en masse. It's what Lardis calls âsurvival.' There are two more large encampments up ahead. One about forty miles from here, the other twenty-five miles beyond that at the first sanctuary. The sanctuary is a cavern system in a huge outcrop of rock. The entire tribe can disappear inside it, spread out, make themselves thin on the ground. Hard for the
Wamphyri to winkle them out. That's where we're heading. We hole up there for the long night.”
Wamphyri to winkle them out. That's where we're heading. We hole up there for the long night.”
“Seventy miles?” he frowned at her. “Before dark?” He glanced at the sun again, so low in the sky. “You're joking!”
“Sundown is still a long way off,” she reminded him yet again. “You can stare at the sun till you go blind, but you won't see it dip much. It's a slow process.”
“Well, thank goodness for that,” he said, nodding his relief.
“Lardis intends to cover fifteen miles between breaks,” she went on, “but he's tired, too, probably more than we are. The first break will be soon, for he knows we all need to get some sleep. The wolves will watch. The break will be of three hours' durationâno more than that. So for every six hours' travel we get a three-hour break. Nine hours to cover fifteen miles. It sounds easy but in fact it's back-breaking. They're used to it but it will probably cripple you. Until you're into the swing of it, anyway.”
Even as she finished speaking Lardis called a halt. He was up front but his bull voice carried back to them: “Eat, drink,” he advised, “then sleep.”
The Travellers trudged to a halt, Zek and Jazz with them. She unrolled her sleeping-bag, told Jazz: “Get yourself a blanket of furs from one of the travois. They carry spares. Someone will come round with bread, water, a little meat.” Then she flattened a patch of bracken, shook out her bed on top of it and climbed in. She pulled the zipper half-way shut from bottom to top. Jazz lit her a cigarette and went to find himself a blanket.
When he too lay down close by, food had already been brought for them. While they ate he admitted: “I'm excited as a kid! I'll never get to sleep. My brain's far too active. There's so much to take in.”
“You'll sleep,” she answered.
“Maybe you should tell me a story,” he said, lying back. “Your story?”
“The story of my life?” she gave him a wan smile.
“No, just the bit you've lived since you came here. Not very romantic, I know, but the more I learn about this place the better. As Lardis might say, it's a matter of survival. Now that we know about this Dwellerâwho apparently has a season ticket to Berlinâsurvival seems so much more desirable. Or more correctly, more feasible!”
“You're right,” she said, making herself more comfortable. “There have been times when I've just about given up hope, but now I'm glad I didn't. You want to hear my story? All right then, Jazz, this is how it was for me ⦔
She began to talk, low, even-voiced, and as she got into the story so she fell into the dramatic, colourful style of the Travellersâand of the Wamphyri themselves, for that matter. Being a telepath, their manner and modes of expression had impressed themselves upon her that much more quickly, until now they were second nature. Jazz listened, let her words flow, conjured from them the feel and the fear of her story â¦
Zek's Story
“I CAME THROUGH THE GATE KITTED-UP JUST LIKE YOU,” Zek commenced her tale, “but I wasn't as big or as strong as you are. I couldn't carry as much. And I was dog-tired â¦
“It was night on Starside when I arrivedâwhich is to say I didn't stand a chance! But of course I didn't know what my chances were, not thenâor I might simply have put a bullet through my brain and that would have been the end of that.
“I came through the Gate, climbed down from the crater rim, saw what was waiting for me. And nothing I could do but face it, for there was no way back. Oh, you can believe that before I climbed down I threw myself at the sphere in a last desperate attempt to escape; but it just stood there, pouring out its white light, implacable and impenetrable as a dome of luminous rock.
“But if the sight of
Them
waiting there had scared me, my exit from the Gate had not been without its own effect upon them. They didn't know what to make of me. In fact they weren't âwaiting for me' at allâthey were there, at the Gate, on business of their ownâbut I didn't find that out until later. The whole thing is a blur in my mind now, like a bad dream gradually fading.
It's hard to describe how it was, how it felt. But I'll try.
Them
waiting there had scared me, my exit from the Gate had not been without its own effect upon them. They didn't know what to make of me. In fact they weren't âwaiting for me' at allâthey were there, at the Gate, on business of their ownâbut I didn't find that out until later. The whole thing is a blur in my mind now, like a bad dream gradually fading.
It's hard to describe how it was, how it felt. But I'll try.
“You've seen the flying beasts that the Wamphyri use, but you haven't seen the warrior creaturesâor if you have, then you haven't seen them up close. Now I'm not talking about such as Shaithis's lieutenants, Gustan and that other one; they were ex-Travellers, vampirized by Shaithis and given a little rank and authority. They had not received eggs, as far as I'm aware, and could never aspire to anything greater than service to their Lord. They
were
vampires, of courseâof a sort. All the changelings of the Wamphyri are, but Gustan and the others are still men, too ⦔ She paused and sighed.
were
vampires, of courseâof a sort. All the changelings of the Wamphyri are, but Gustan and the others are still men, too ⦔ She paused and sighed.
“Jazz, this will be difficult. Vampires are ⦠their life-cycles are fantastically complex. Maybe I'd better try to clarify what I know of their systems before I carry on. Their biological systems, I mean.
“Vampires, the basic creatures, are born in the swamps east and west of the mountains. Their source, their genesis, is conjectural; there are perhaps parent creatures, mother-things, buried there in the quag, never seeing the light of day. These mothers would be pure and simple egg-layers. Now I've talked to the Travellers, and to the Lady KarenâWamphyri herselfâand no one knows any more than I've told you about the basic vampire. One thing you can guarantee, though: they don't emerge from their swamps during sunup.
“When they do spawn, then the first task of each and every one of them is find a host, which they pursue with the same instinct as a duck taking to water. It isn't in their nature to live by themselves, indeed if they can't find a host they quickly dessicate and die. You could say they're like cuckoos, who ⦠but no, that's a poor analogy. Like tapeworms, maybeâor better still, like liver flukes. So they're parasitic, yes, but that's where any similarity ends â¦
“Anyway, I said their life-cycle was complex. Well, so it is, but when you think about it so are many of the
life-cycles of the creatures in our own world. The liver fluke is a good example. Living in the intestines of cows, pigs and sheep, dropping their eggs in the animal's dung, to be picked up on the feet and in the sores or openings of other animalsâincluding men! And once they take hold on the liverâthen the animal is finished. The organ is reduced to so much gorgonzola! And if the beast dies in a field, to be eaten by pigs ⦠or if it is slaughtered and eaten by ignorant men ⦠you can see how the cycle is continued. So, the vampire is something like that. It's a parasite, anyway. But as I said, that's the only similarity.
life-cycles of the creatures in our own world. The liver fluke is a good example. Living in the intestines of cows, pigs and sheep, dropping their eggs in the animal's dung, to be picked up on the feet and in the sores or openings of other animalsâincluding men! And once they take hold on the liverâthen the animal is finished. The organ is reduced to so much gorgonzola! And if the beast dies in a field, to be eaten by pigs ⦠or if it is slaughtered and eaten by ignorant men ⦠you can see how the cycle is continued. So, the vampire is something like that. It's a parasite, anyway. But as I said, that's the only similarity.
“The big difference is this:
“The tapeworm and liver fluke gradually destroy their hosts, reduce them to nothing, kill them off. In so doing they kill themselves off, too, because without a living host they themselves can't live. But the vampire's instinct is different. It doesn't kill its host but grows with him, makes him more powerful, changes his nature. It learns from him, relieves him of physical weaknesses, increases his strength. It encompasses his mind and character and subverts them. Sexless in itself, the vampire adopts the sex of its host, adopts all of his vices, his passions. Men
are
passionate creatures, Jazz, but with a vampire in them there's nothing to temper them. Men
are
warlike, and as Wamphyri they bathe estatically in the blood of their enemies. Men
are
devious, which makes the Wamphyri the most devious creatures of all!
are
passionate creatures, Jazz, but with a vampire in them there's nothing to temper them. Men
are
warlike, and as Wamphyri they bathe estatically in the blood of their enemies. Men
are
devious, which makes the Wamphyri the most devious creatures of all!
“But all of that is only one part of the cycle, one facet â¦
“Now, I've explained how with a vampire in him a man is mentally corrupted. But then there's the purely physical side. Vampire flesh is different. It is a protoplasm, compatible with
all
flesh! With the flesh of men and beasts and almost anything which lives. And as the vampire grows in its host, so it is able to change that host to its own endsâ
physically
change him! And the
Wamphyri are masters of metamorphosis. I will explain:
all
flesh! With the flesh of men and beasts and almost anything which lives. And as the vampire grows in its host, so it is able to change that host to its own endsâ
physically
change him! And the
Wamphyri are masters of metamorphosis. I will explain:
“Suppose a freshly emerged swamp vampire was fortunate enough to take a wolf as its host. It would gain the wolfs cunning, its fierceness, all its predator instincts. And it would amplify them. There are legends of wolves like that here on Sunside. It's the same legend as the one we knew back on our Earth, which we called the legend of the werewolf! The silver bullet, Jazz, and the full moon!
“To seduce menâfor foodâthe vampire-ridden wolf will
imitate
men! It will go upon two legs, contort its features into manlike features, stalk its prey by night. And when it bites â¦
imitate
men! It will go upon two legs, contort its features into manlike features, stalk its prey by night. And when it bites â¦
“The vampire's bite is virulent! It is an absolute contamination, more certain than rabies. Ah, but where rabies kills, the vampire's bite does not. It
might,
if the vampire desires to kill, but on occasion the victim lives. And if at the time of the attack the vampire
puts into
the victim part of its own being, its own protoplasmic flesh, then that victim is vampirized. But let's say that the attack is fatal, that the vampire drinks the victim's blood, drains him dry (which is often the case) and leaves him a corpse. Again, in this case,
even though the victim is dead,
that which was insertedâwhich was traded for his bloodâis
not
dead! In about seventy hours, occasionally less, the transformation is made, the metamorphosis complete. Again, as in the myths of Earth, after three days the vampire emerges, undead, to spread its contamination abroad.
might,
if the vampire desires to kill, but on occasion the victim lives. And if at the time of the attack the vampire
puts into
the victim part of its own being, its own protoplasmic flesh, then that victim is vampirized. But let's say that the attack is fatal, that the vampire drinks the victim's blood, drains him dry (which is often the case) and leaves him a corpse. Again, in this case,
even though the victim is dead,
that which was insertedâwhich was traded for his bloodâis
not
dead! In about seventy hours, occasionally less, the transformation is made, the metamorphosis complete. Again, as in the myths of Earth, after three days the vampire emerges, undead, to spread its contamination abroad.
“Anyway, I've strayed from the point. I was trying to explain what a Wamphyri warrior creature is. Well, picture one of their flying beasts magnified in bulk by a factor of ten. Imagine such a creature with a dozen armoured necks and heads, all equipped with mouths full of unbelievable teethâteeth like rows of scythes! Imagine these
things
having a like number of arms or tentacles, all terminating in murderous claws and pincers or fitted with huge versions of the Wamphyri
battle-gauntlets. Get all of that formed in your mind's eye, and you are looking at the warrior creature. They are vampires, but utterly mindless, with one and
only
one loyaltyâto whichever Lord created them.
things
having a like number of arms or tentacles, all terminating in murderous claws and pincers or fitted with huge versions of the Wamphyri
battle-gauntlets. Get all of that formed in your mind's eye, and you are looking at the warrior creature. They are vampires, but utterly mindless, with one and
only
one loyaltyâto whichever Lord created them.
“Ah!âbut I see the question in your eyes, Jazz. You're thinking: whichever Lord created them from what? But haven't I told you that they are masters of metamorphosis? Their creaturesâ
all
of their creatures, which take the place of machines in their societyâ
were once men!
all
of their creatures, which take the place of machines in their societyâ
were once men!
“Don't ask me the hows of it; I don't have all the answers, and I don't think I could bear to know them. What I do know I'll pass on to you, as time allows. But right now you've asked me what it was like for me when I first came here, and I'm telling you that the first things I sawâtwo of themâwere Wamphyri warrior creatures. I saw them first, before anything else, in the same way you would notice a pair of cockroaches among ants. One: because ants are tolerable, while cockroaches are not. And two: because cockroaches are that much bigger, and so much more ugly!
“Two of them, out there on that rock-strewn plain under the moon and stars. And I couldn't believe their size! That they were fighting things was obvious: take a look at a picture of Tyrannosaurus Rex in a book of prehistoric animals and you don't need to be told he was a warrior. These creatures were like that: with their weaponry, armour-plated, in all their utter hideousness, they couldn't be anything else. It was only when I saw that they were quiescent, controlled, that I dared to take my eyes off them. Then, having observed the âcockroaches,' as it were, I looked at the âants.' Seen in contrast, beside the warrior creatures and flying beasts, that's what the Wamphyri looked like: ants. But they were the masters, and the monstrous giants their obedient slaves.
“Try to picture it:
“Out on the boulder plain, these two mountains of
armour-clad flesh. Closer, a half-dozen flyers, all craning their necks and swaying their heads to and fro. And closer still, a few paces away from the shining dome of the Gate, the Wamphyri themselves come here to punish one of their own, a transgressor against the Lady Karen's laws. I saw them, stared at them in a mixture of awe and morbid fascination, and they stared back at me. For they were here to thrust someone
into
the Gate, and the last thing they'd expected was that some other should come
out
of it!
armour-clad flesh. Closer, a half-dozen flyers, all craning their necks and swaying their heads to and fro. And closer still, a few paces away from the shining dome of the Gate, the Wamphyri themselves come here to punish one of their own, a transgressor against the Lady Karen's laws. I saw them, stared at them in a mixture of awe and morbid fascination, and they stared back at me. For they were here to thrust someone
into
the Gate, and the last thing they'd expected was that some other should come
out
of it!
“There was Karen herself, and four subordinatesââlieutenants' if you likeâand one other who was ugly as sin and draped in chains of gold. Now gold is a soft metal, as you know, Jazz, and easily broken. But not when its links are thick as your fingers! There was more gold in those chains than I've ever seen in my life in any one place, in one mass, and yet this Corlis who was decked in them wore them like tinsel! Corlis, that was his name; he was huge, a brute, and stark naked except for the gold. No gauntlet on this one's hand, for he was in shame. But though he stood there naked, unweaponed, still his red eyes burned furiously and unrepentant!
“The four who surrounded him were big men, too, but smaller by a head than their prisoner; they carried long sheaths of leather strapped to their backs, and in their hands slender swords. The sword, as I'd learn later, is a shameful weapon; only their evil gauntlets are considered honorable and fitting tools for hand-to-hand combat. Also,
these
swords were tipped in silver. And all four of them were pointed at Corlis, who stood there panting, his head lifted high, engorged with rage.
these
swords were tipped in silver. And all four of them were pointed at Corlis, who stood there panting, his head lifted high, engorged with rage.
“Behind their prisoner, and shielded from him by the four who guarded him, stood the Lady Karen transfixed. Sighting me, her red mouth had fallen open. Now, I'll tell you something, Jazzâsomething which no woman should ever admit, which I hadn't admitted, not even to myself, until that moment. Women are envious creatures. And the good-looking ones more so
than others. But
now
I admit it because I know it's true. Except I didn't know how true until I saw this Karen.
than others. But
now
I admit it because I know it's true. Except I didn't know how true until I saw this Karen.
“Her hair was copper, burnished, almost ablaze; it reflected the white light of the dome like a halo over her head, bounced like fine spun gold on her shoulders, competed with the polished bangles she wore on her arms. Gold rings on a slender golden chain around her neck supported the sheath of soft white leather which she wore like a glove, and on her feet sandals of pale leather stitched in gold. Over her shoulders a long cloak of black fur, skilfully shorn from the wings of great bats, shimmering with a weave of fine golden stitches, and about her waist a wide black leather belt, buckled with her crestâa snarling wolf's headâand supporting, on one rounded hip, her gauntlet.
“A woman, an incredibly beautiful woman; or she would have been, if not for her scarlet eyes. Who or whatever these people were, she was one of them; indeed she. was the mistress of this group, their Lady. And before too long I'd know what they called themselvesâWamphyri!
“She came forward, around the group standing there, and approached me where I crouched by the crater wall, with the half-space of the Gate at my back. Close-up she was even more beautiful; her body had the sinuous motion of a Gypsy dancer, and yet seemed so unaffected as to be innocent! Her face, heart-shaped, with a lock of fiery hair coiled on her brow, could have been angelicâbut her red eyes made it the face of a demon. Her mouth was full, curved in a perfect bow; the colour of her lips, like blood, was accentuated by her pale, slightly hollow cheeks. Only her nose marred looks which were otherwise entirely other-worldly: it was a fraction tilted, stubby, with nostrils just a little too round and dark. And perhaps her ears, half-hidden in her hair, which showed whorls like pale, exotic conches. But golden rings dangled from their lobes, and all in all, and for all her weirdness and contrasting colours,
still there was the look of the Gypsy about her. I could hear the jingle of her movements, even when there was none to hear â¦
still there was the look of the Gypsy about her. I could hear the jingle of her movements, even when there was none to hear â¦
“âHell-lander,' she said, in a tongue I wouldn't have known without my talent to rely on. Languages are easy when you're a telepath. But what I couldn't recognize in her spoken words, I read in her mindâand she knew it at once! Her pale hand, crimson-nailed, flickered toward me, pointed, accused: âThought-stealer!'
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