Brian Lumley - Necroscope - Invaders

'And through all of this, that demon Lord's laughter tinging out. And my father on his knees now, wringing his hands and asking, "But why, Lord, why? Tell me this is not of my doing."

'Above the thunder of raging warriors, the cries of lusting lieutenants and thralls, and the screams of the doomed people, Lord Malinari heard him. He swept back his robe, took his gauntlet from his belt and thrust his hand into it, answering, "Your doing? Yours, Dinu? Do you truly think that anything you could do would be of any moment in this world? Because you were devious, is that your meaning? No, you fool, nothing is of your doing! Why, there never was a supplicant chief in all Sunside — from here to the furnace desert — who was not an enormous liar and cheat! It is your nature, even as it's mine."

' "But Lord, if not to punish me, why do you do this thing? Towards what end…?" Dinu's jaw had fallen open; his eyes were wide in a face that craved understanding. And:

'"It is the provisioning," Malinari told him. "But a great provisioning! My manse is a fortress where in times of peace we do well enough. But soon the peace will be ended. I am building an army, Dinu, and my needs are great. For in Starside a bloodwar is in the offing, and bloodwars are built on blood. In this case, yours.'"

'With which he flexed his hand inside his glove, until all its hooks and blades stood out. And he cried out to his men and monsters: "Take the young and healthy alive as best you can. As for the children, the middling-old and the dodderers — they are fodder." Then, to my father:

'"And you, Dinu… alas, you're middling-old."

'His gauntlet of bright metal made a downward-sweeping arc in the smoky firelight, then gleamed red — dripped red — where he held it up to the reeking night. Almost as red as his eyes.

'And after that I saw no more…'

'… Until I awakened in Malstack, my Lord's manse in Starside.

'Now, an aerie is an aerie, and all of them much alike. Or at least they were in the olden times. Since when it seems some terrible vengeance has visited itself upon Starside; for I have seen the cadavers of those same vast dwellings, like the skeletal spines of giants, lying sprawled and broken where they fell on the barren boulder plains. And only hollow stumps remaining, mute revenants of castles that once were mighty.

'However, and in the time of which I speak:

'The Mind's manse stood far out on the plains, at the rim of that great clump of carven stacks, spires, and towers whereof the vampire Lords were wont to fashion their homes. Guarding its lower levels — in the scree jumbles at its foot, and in its high-walled, gantletted approaches — Malstack had many flightless warriors faithful only to Lord Malinari, who was after all their father. Lean and hungry, they were ever watchful.

'Within: there were wells in the aerie's basement, flabby siphoneers in the stubby turret of its roof, and in between all manner of levels to house Malinari's men and monsters, his vats of metamorphism and other workshops, stables for his flyers and warriors alike, launching bays, barracks for the soldiers, kitchens, workplaces, and quarters for specialist thralls such as weavers, metal-and leather-workers, and even musicians. Music, aye! For The Mind had something of an ear for Szgany tunes. The stringed bazoura, with its swift, sweetly liquid notes, was like a balm to ease the pain of his troubled head. For his mentalism was all things to Malinari: a blessing and a bane. One thing to hear the mere voices of men — when you have the power to stop them with a command or simple gesture — but something else to hear their very thoughts, so clamorous loud in your mind that you must struggle not to hear them!

'That was the curse of Malinari's mentalism: that it was there whether he wanted it or not. That while giving it direction, controlling it, took a great effort of will, shutting out its generally useless babble — the tumult of an entire aerie's thoughts — were almost impossible! And when the sun was up and the barrier mountains rimmed in gold, many a sleepless day for my master if not for the musicians who laved his mind with the songs of Sunside.

'But I fear I have strayed. For I was speaking of Malstack and now have returned to Malinari. Or perhaps not, for this was what you wanted: to learn about The Mind and his ways. And anyway, and as I've said, an aerie is an aerie, and all much of a kind. Enough of Malstack.

'So, what else can I tell you of my master as was? Let me think a moment…

'His origins? Oh, yes, I know of them also. For with time, after I had proved myself as a thrall, rising through the ranks to become a lieutenant — and when during the bloodwars I became the first of his lieutenants — we got to be close, Malinari and I. Well, as close as master and slave can get. And upon a time, during a brief lull when we took respite in Malstack, I remember he said to me:

' "Do you know, but what is in the blood usually comes out in the flesh?"

'To which I replied, "Master?"

'"Your father," he said. "Do you know how he became chief of the Vadastras?"

' "I was a child at the time," I answered, "But yes, I remember. You made him the chief, my Lord."

' "And do you know why?"

'"I have no idea, Lord."

'"Several reasons. One: because he desired the job. Among Szgany supplicants it takes a strong man — a man with a strong stomach — to be a chief and give away his own people. Two: because he was big and insensitive and a bully born, which I suppose is much the same as one. And three: because Dinu was rare among men, one of a small number that I could bear to converse with. Or rather, with whom I conversed on a level, without concerning myself whether or no they lied, and so not caring."

'"I am trying to understand, master," I told him, since it seemed he required an answer.

'"I divine men's thoughts," Malinari explained. "When they think against me, then I am… angered. And when I am angered, then I lose good men. Wherefore it sometimes serves me well not to read them! And I tell you, I lied to your father when I told him that his devious ways were known to me. Suspected, perhaps, but never known for a fact, not until the night when that woman he'd used betrayed him. Not that it mattered greatly; the Vadastras were doomed anyway, fuel for my bloodwar. Let me make myself plain: your father's mind was closed to me. As is yours." '"Mine, Lord?"

'"Indeed, for what is in the blood comes out in the flesh. You are heir to Dinu's mental processes… your minds are much alike, so that your thoughts, too, are vague and shadowy things to me, which I read as through a writhing mist. Oh, I could get to them more directly; should we say, by contact:3 With the very brain that holds them? For, as you are surely aware, these fingers of mine are especially gifted in their own right. Alas, but that would probably mean the

loss of yet another good man. That is a luxury which I cannot afford."

'"No, Lord," I said, and I admit I backed off a pace. "No, indeed, Lord!"

'But Malinari merely tut-tutted and shook his head, then winced and twitched a little as was sometimes his wont, saying, "No, no! Have no fear, Korath. For while the rest of this manse of mine is filled with men and creatures — creatures with minds that make noise and babble and uproar in my bead, even when all else is silent! — you seem as empty as those great dark spaces out between the stars. Oh, yes, and I like you for it."

'Then in the privacy of my master's chambers, we would sit and listen to his music together — and I would try my best not to think…'

'He told me of his beginnings.

'His father was Wamphyri: Giorgas Malin, who sniffed out even the craftiest of the Szgany by tracking the aura of their fear. He wasn't a mentalist as such — he read no minds — but he was sensitive to sentience, and knew when intelligent, fear-filled minds were close by. He sensed the shuddering and trembling of the very brains of his prey, even when they themselves were still and silent. Wherefore Sunside's nomads feared Malin worse than any other Lord; for despite their skill at cloaking their thoughts, he was usually able to discover them. In short, his talent had been similar to that of his son. Indeed, it had been the source of Malinari's mentalism.