Brian Lumley - Necroscope - Invaders

'And meanwhile Dinu's specially chosen squad of bully boys was out and about, to ensure that certain other tributes — of the human variety — were not fled. For while the tithe-markers were already drawn, the unfortunate parties had not been named for fear that they would make off into the night. Thus, as the time drew nigh, the wailing of mothers and daughters, the curses of men and the sobbing of their sons could be heard in and around the camp, as one by one the various listed "names" were informed of their misfortune by Dinu's tithe-takers.

'Some were already known, of course: the troublemakers in their cages, and outsiders who had wandered inadvertently onto Vadastra territory. But the three males, three females, and six infants of the clan itself, their naming was left to last, for the reasons stated. Then they were gathered in by Dinu's bully boys, chained and gagged before they could voice any great complaint or cause commotion, and tethered to await the coming of the tithesmen and their vampire master, Lord Nephran Malinari. As for the babies: they were wrapped in bundles on the trestle tables, along with the other wines, victuals, and sweetmeats.

'Myself: I was with Nadia, "safe" in my father's caravan. From peepholes in the withe walls, silently and scarce breathing, we watched and waited as instructed. For my father liked to keep his prized ones (I still find the idea of "loved ones" hard to envisage) well out of sight of the Wamphyri, so as not to arouse their interest. Likewise Nadia's mother, Melana Zetra; Dinu had advised her to remain out of sight, hidden in her caravan, lest being comely she attract unwanted attention.

'And in the fifth hour after sundown they came. 'The skies had been clear, as told, and only a warm breeze, like the breath of the dreaming forest, to tease the flames of the campfires and stir the branches of the trees about the central clearing. But the Wamphyri have their own weird ways with nature; they work their will on air, earth, and water as acid works on metals, etching them to their design.

'We had seen it all before: the mist gathering on the high peaks and rolling down like some vaporous avalanche, all milky-white in the moonlight. The sudden flurry of cold air down from the barrier mountains, beating on the flames of our fires as if to smother them, and lashing the gentler winds of the forest to frenzied flight. And suddenly, from behind the peaks, the first stain of dark clouds writhing blindly out of the north,

feeling their way like snaky fingers and obscuring the glittering Northstar as they came.

'And in those clouds, riding on high, swooping and fluttering like withered leaves caught in a flurry — yet, unlike leaves, directed and with purpose — the scaly flyer mounts of the Wamphyri!

'And oh, the moaning and gibbering of those plague winds, as the creatures that rode them — and the Ones who rode them — came on, gliding, descending, trapping the air in the scoops of their webby membrane wings, and settling to the foothills over Vadastra territory… except, as by now you have surely reasoned, these lands were Vadastra in name only.

'For in fact they belonged to Lord Nephran Malinari of the Wamphyri. And Malinari had come to collect his tithe…'

In the gloom of the wrecked sump, in the dark of Jake's dream — which was in fact much more than a dream, indeed a metaphysical connection through Harry Keogh to an ex-lieutenant of the Wamphyri — Korath Mindsthrall continued his story:

'There were vampires and vampires. In Starside's great aeries of the Wamphyri as were, I saw some who were hideous beyond description, too monstrous to look upon even through a thrall's eyes.

'In general they would keep to their manlike outlines, but would shape their various parts to their own design. Their ears were often carved and fretted into fanciful sculptures; convolute nostrils might be pierced and hung with rings of gold; arms lengthened to extend their reach in battle, and teeth permanently enlarged until speech itself was difficult. Lords frequently kept battle-scars as trophies; a flayed cheek might be made to heal so that the white of the bone showed through; a gouged eye could be grown elsewhere than on the face.

'In those days there was a young Lord called Lesk the Glut because of his appetites. Stolen as a child out of Sunside, he grew to a youth, became a lieutenant, eventually slew his master for his leech. But Lesk was a madman, and the stolen leech only enhanced his madness. When his murdered master's familiar

warrior hesitated to answer to Lesk's command, he actually did battle with the thing… and killed it! He won the fight but lost an eye, which he grew again upon his shoulder.

'Organs such as these were rudimentary. Some Lords deliberately affected an extra eye at the nape of the neck… sufficient to give warning of an attack from the rear. And these eyes would be lidless, so that they could never close in sleep.

'I mention these things so as to illustrate the hideousness of which I have spoken. But in fact those Lords — and occasionally Ladies — who affected such alterations or mutilations were usually the weakest of their kind; they only made themselves to look ugly so as to present more fearsome facades in battle, and so perhaps to avoid battle entirely.

'Take for example Volse Pinescu, called Lord Wen, which was surely the greatest possible misnomer. What, just one wen, when in all likelihood Volse was the ugliest of all the Lords of the Wamphyri? For it was Lord Wen's habit to foster hairy blemishes, running sores, and festoons of boils all over his face and form in order that his aspect would be that much more terrifying! Do you see? No clean man or thing would strike him for fear of the drench which must surely ensue!

'Even amongst the highest-ranking vampire Lords, there were several such as Lesk and Volse. But then again, there were also those who had no need for such deceptions and affectations. And Nephran Malinari was one of them.

'For he was vain and he was handsome… ah, but this, too, was a fa£ade in its way. For The Mind was a monster underneath, even as monstrous as his mind, if you'll forgive this puny play on words. But at least in his appearance Lord Malinari was less the beast and more the beautiful human being; more truly, well, "lordly", as it were. But for something so very terrible to be so beautiful, surely that were the ultimate deception?

'Back to that night:

'Seven great flyers had landed on the rim of a broad ledge, a false plateau in the foothills overlooking Vadastra territory.

Malinari's mist (for you may be sure it was of his manufacture) rolled down to flank him and his, then spread out and descended to the forest. It was met by a lesser mist that sprang from the soil and woodlands themselves, so ringing in our rude homes and their central clearing. And all about us a sea of white-lapping mist; and in the clearing itself a ground mist — but unlike any natural mist, sentient and sick-feeling — writhing and twining about the cabins and long-immobilized caravans where the latter were all propped on their empty axles. Malinari's thoughts were in the mist; they felt things out, searching for treachery. But there was none. Or at least, not towards Malinari.

'The wind had fled south and the night was still again. As the mist slowly dispersed, the flyers launched from their foothills ledge and came gliding on stretchy membranous wings.

'Now, the flying mounts of the Wamphyri are monstrous creatures, though not so much for any kind of malevolent activity on their part as for their appearance and nature. For while at first glance they seem like giant long-necked and long-tailed bats, on closer inspection… plainly they are made from men.' Their wings have enormous span, with the alveolate, once-human skeletons of arms, legs, and grotesquely extended fingers and toes all visible through the sheathing, grey-gleaming membrane of their envelopes. The creatures have massive hearts, to fuel the muscles that power their great wings; other than that they are little more than airfoils of flexible cartilage and hollow bone in sheaths of light, lean meat. In short, they are mainly wings with very little of mind. Built to fly and obey — with their tiny, walnut brains linked invisibly, mentally, to their riders — they do nothing but what their masters will. Oh, they have bits in their mouths and reins for guidance, but only for emphasis when mental commands go lacking a ready response.