Deathstalker 07 - Deathstalker Return

cold eyes burned deep in her face, and her mouth was pursed into an endless rosebud through the constant pressure of her cheeks. She had a great dandelion blossom of gray hair, and wore nothing but lengths of steel chain, wrapped around and around her, the steel links puncturing her flesh here and there to hold the chains in place. She stank of musk and sweat and foulness.
    Wherever she was, she sucked all the energy out of a place, and in particular she absorbed sensory perceptions, savoring them like sweets at a banquet. Around her, voices became quiet, scents faded away, colors became shades of gray, mouths became dry and empty, and hands became numb. With a moment's effort she could leave a city screaming in total sensory deprivation. Or she could broadcast telepathically everything she'd stored—every sense and sensation simultaneously, like a living mindbomb—overwhelming the senses of everyone around her, for miles and miles and miles.
    And finally, there was the Gray Train. He no longer had a body as such, and existed now only as an individual entity by an extended ongoing effort of will. He manifested in the meeting place as a cloud of gray flakes in a more or less human form, composed of dust and detritus gathered together from his surroundings. He was only the memory of who he used to be, and if his concentration ever slipped, he wouldn't even be that. He looked even vaguer than usual this day, a gray ghost in a stone chamber, weakened by what had happened on Shandrakor.
    The Gray Train had always been a possessor—the first of the uber-espers to be able to thrust his thoughts into the mind of another, and take control. Under his will, his slaves become mere bodies for
    him to live through, to vicariously experience a world now lost to him. It was the Gray Train who taught the disaffected rogue espers how to become ELFs—because it amused him. So it was only natural that he should choose to possess the thirteen Paragons sent to Shandrakor. But the First Empire technology of the old Deathstalker Standing had destroyed his hold on those bodies, and thrust him forcefully from their minds, attacking and destroying his thoughts with strange energies. The Gray Train was still recovering.
    The uber-espers. The spawn of the Mater Mundi. Powerful beyond reason, crippled beyond hope, driven to live like rats in the walls of society.
    The last monster to arrive, because he always had to make an entrance, was of course Finn Durandal.
    He strolled in through the only door, looking smart and splendid in his black leather Champion's armor, and looked casually about him as though he saw such grotesque visions every day, and wasn't in the least impressed. He smiled easily about him, like a perfect prince among his courtiers in some children's story, and then he leaned calmly against the stone wall and folded his arms across his chest.
    "Well, well," he murmured. "It seems the gang's all here. The secret Kings andQueens of the Empire."
    "How did you know about this place?" said Blue Hellfire in her cold, cold voice. "Which one of us betrayed this location to you?"
    "Oh, none of you," Finn said easily. "But I have many useful allies. The AIs of Shub, for example. You'd be surprised at some of the things they know. They know about you, and they know about this place.
    They were only too happy to spill the beans, in return for a detailed report on you and this meeting. They do so love to collect data. Now, if we could please proceed to the matter at hand? I'm sure none of us wants to be here any longer than we absolutely have to. The ELFs have told me that they are on the verge of losing control of the Paragons. And we can't have that, can we? So, someone here is going to have to take control of the remaining Paragons for a time, so that the ELFs can get a little rest."
    "Impossible," said the Gray Train immediately. He had a soft sighing voice that was barely audible, like the echo of a thought. "It is all I can do now to maintain my own identity. The old science hurt me, banished me, diminished me. I am not what I was."
    "Give them to me," said Screaming Silence, in her fat oily voice.
    She licked her great lips and slammed her massive hands together, sending shock waves rolling slowly through her great body. "The more the merrier, that's always been my motto. We'll have such fun… But now, sweet Finn, darling traitor, we must have words. We will not speak with the ELFs directly. We have moved beyond them. You shall be