They had followed him, moving effortlessly. He could hear them communicating with each other, not by words, but by the thoughts he had been unable to sense. He could also hear them talking to him, sinuous whispers, soft echoes of childhood nightmares. Come to usss…. Be with usss…. We will show you the light. We will show you beauty and power and an entire universe of majesty and terror.
He wanted to scream, but he did not have the breath. He wanted to fall and collapse crying, but then they would catch him. Somehow he knew that they would catch him anyway.
Something twisted beneath his leg and he fell, his knee striking the floor hard. He stumbled forward and tried to scramble to his feet, but all he did was roll forward a little and hit his knee again.
Then they were there, just materialising behind him.
Let us show you the light, one of them whispered.
"Who are you?" Chen said, tears in his eyes. He was one of the special, one of the unique. He shouldn't have to feel like this.
Fear was for lesser beings.
We are the Hand of the Light, the first one said. He could no longer tell them apart. Everything seemed to be melting, clothes, features, build, everything. They were becoming mannequins, twisted approximations of what a human being should look like, made by someone who had never seen one.
Chen tried to lash out with a telepathic attack, but there was nothing to attack. There was simply nothing there. No mind. Nothing.
Come with us. We will show you the light.
"What are you?" he asked again. "What…. what are you?"
We are the Hand of the Light.
"You mean, you are worthless abominations," said a new voice, one harsh and strong, one that did not fear anything. Chen reached out with his mind to welcome the newcomer, but he recoiled. A mundane. How could a mundane be so calm when he was so terrified?
"Die!" snapped one of the creatures. There was a blur of motion and the thoughts of many telepaths joined in one. The sound as a PPG was fired, and one of the creatures fell. Another one stumbled back, clutching at its head. Chen could see light pouring from its distorted eyes and mouth. Something terrible and dark was seeping into the creature's head.
He shifted his gaze, only just daring to move, and he saw a tall man, dressed in innocuous grey, holding a PPG. There was a long scar down the side of his face. This was the mundane.
There were also several telepaths, led by an elegant, hard-faced blonde woman. They were joined, and holding off one of the creatures. The mundane shot another, moving with almost blinding speed.
Chen breathed out slowly and lent his own mind to the telepaths. Joining was a simple exercise, taught to every child. He had been warned in training that some joinings could remove control from him entirely, but he had not expected anything like this.
His mind was swept up in a current of energy that immediately pulled him free from any moorings he might have tried to form. It was a flowing river of darkness, that felt foul and smelled foul and was foul. He gagged at its touch and at its presence, but he could not escape. All he could do was try to stay sane and force the flow in the direction the others wanted — into the ball of light inside the last remaining creature.
It moved forward, unbelievably fast. The mundane fired again, but it managed to grab the throat of one of the telepaths. Looking with his eyes rather than his mind, Chen saw the light flow into her body. She gagged and stiffened, choking. He watched helplessly as the thoughts fled from her mind, the blood left her body, and she died, the body decaying practically before his eyes.
The creature turned to him next, and he trembled. He wanted to scream, but he could not even muster that much independence.
It stiffened and clutched at its throat, looking for all the world as if it were choking. More and more of the darkness poured into it, and finally it fell.
As soon as it hit the floor the joining ended and Chen was freed. He rolled over onto his side and shook, his stomach heaving. He gagged, and vomited helplessly until his stomach was empty.
He did not know how long he lay there, shaking, lying in his own vomit. Patches of conversation reached his ears, but he dared not even try to hear with his mind.
"No! We need one of them alive."
"They won't tell us anything. The last ones certainly haven't." That was the man, the mundane with the scar. Chen felt he should know him, but he just could not think clearly enough.
"Then maybe this one will. We certainly won't find out anything if we kill him." That was a woman's voice, but he did not know who she was.
"Another one dead, though. Was this worth it? Look at him, throwing up like a student celebrating his birthday." Chen felt his contempt and there was a moment's anger within him. Who was this mundane to criticise him? Him! He was a telepath, one of the special few, not some mundane, ten-a-penny mouse.
"At least she died free, not in one of their machines. We're doing something here. Each step we take is a step closer to ending all this."
"If you say so," the mundane grunted. "I'll take your word for it."
Chen rolled over and looked up at them. The woman was shorter than the man, and despite signs of strength and conviction in her face, he looked so much stronger than her. Of course she was a telepath and he was a mundane, but it was odd to see him taking orders from her like that.
"You shouldn't have tried to do that," the woman said, noticing Chen's efforts to rise. "It's more than a little disorienting the first time. And the second, come to that. It'll get easier though, once you've communed with the artefact."
"Artefact?"
"You'll see. We'd better get out of here, quickly. We can explain later."
Chen looked at the mundane, and suddenly he remembered who he was. "You're Captain Ben Zayn," he said. "You work for Mr. Bester."
"I work for her now," he said, pointing at the woman. "And so do you. It's the least you can do in return for us saving your life."
"Who are you?" he said to her. "What were those things? What did they want with me?"
"Do you believe in evil?" she asked simply.
Chen blinked. "I…. I don't know. I've never really thought about it. Why?"
"Those things are evil. What they do with telepaths is evil. We'll tell you all about it, but you'll wish we hadn't once you know everything. You really will. You can call me Talia. I know who you are."
"How…?" Chen stopped. He believed her when she said there would be explanations later.
He also believed her when she said he would not like the answers.
For one night, and one night alone, Brakir belonged to the ghosts. Marrago could see them moving through the streets of their cities, costumes of flamboyant whites and golds, masks and banners and jewellery.
There were many strangers here this night, aliens come to witness an event that most would never see in their lifetimes again. The Day of the Dead. Some came merely to say they had been there. Some came seeking answers to what lay beyond. Some came hoping for one last word with a loved one, now passed away. Marrago had his reasons for being here, and they had little to do with his mission for Sinoval. For six months he had been scouring the galaxy seeking soldiers and mercenaries and sellswords. Now he had a force of nearly thirty, with at least two he trusted as lieutenants. He had given them command, and he had come here.
They had tried to argue against him travelling alone, but he had come anyway, despite their protests. There was a price on his head from the Court, and there had already been three attempts at claiming it. He was still a recognisable figure and his refusal to cut his hair only made him the more recognisable.