The Eternal Champion

by Michael Moorcock

  Katorn led them and he was grinning like a sated wolf.

  She was a black-haired girl. Her alien features were composed against the fear she felt. She had a strange, shifting beauty which was always there but which seemed to change with every breath she took. They had torn her garments and bruised her arms and face.

  “Erekosë!” Katorn followed his men in. He, too, was very drunk. “Erekosë—Rigenos, my lord king—look!”

  The king blinked and looked at the girl with distaste. “Why should we take interest in an Eldren wanton? Get hence, Katorn. Use her as you will—that is your private decision—but be sure she is not still alive when we leave Paphanaal.”

  “No!” laughed Katorn. “Look! Look at her!”

  The king shrugged and inspected the wine swilling in his cup.

  “Why have you brought her here, Katorn?” I asked quietly.

  Katorn rocked with laughter. His thick lips opened wide and he roared in our faces. “You know not who she is, that’s plain!”

  “Take the Eldren wench away, Katorn!” The king’s voice rose in drunken irritation.

  “My lord king—this—this is Ermizhad!”

  “What?” The king leaned forward and stared at the girl. “What? Ermizhad, that whore! Ermizhad of the Ghost Worlds!”

  Katorn nodded. “The same.”

  The king grew more sober. “She’s lured many a mortal to his death, so I’ve heard. She shall die by torture for her lustful crimes. The stake shall have her.”

  Katorn shook his head. “No, King Rigenos—at least, not yet. Forget you that she’s Prince Arjavh’s sister?”

  The king nodded in a mockery of gravity. “Of course. Arjavh’s sister.”

  “And the implications, my lord? We should keep her prisoner, should we not? She will make a good hostage, eh? A good bargaining counter, should we need one?”

  “Ah, of course. Yes. You did right, Katorn. Keep her prisoner.” The king grinned a silly grin. “No. It is not fair. You deserve to enjoy yourself further this night. Who does not wish to enjoy himself?” He looked at me. “Erekosë—Erekosë who cannot get drunk. She shall be put in your charge, Champion.”

  I nodded. “I accept the charge,” I said. I pitied the girl, whatever terrible crimes she had committed.

  Katorn looked at me suspiciously.

  “Do not worry, Lord Katorn,” I said. “Do as the king says—continue to enjoy yourself. Slay some more. Rape some more. There must be plenty left.”

  Katorn drew his brows together. Then his face cleared a little.

  “A few maybe,” he said. “But we’ve been thorough. Only she will live to see the sun rise, I think.” He jabbed a thumb at his prisoner, then signed to his men. “Come! Let’s finish our task.”

  He stalked out.

  Count Roldero got up slowly and came towards me as I stood looking at the Eldren girl.

  The king looked up. “Good. Keep her from harm, Erekosë,” he said cynically. “Keep her from harm. She’ll be a useful piece in our game with Arjavh.”

  “Take her to my apartments in the east wing,” I told the guards, “and make sure she’s unmolested and has no chance to escape.”

  They took her away and, almost as soon as she had left, King Rigenos made to stand up, swayed and fell with a crash to the floor.

  Count Roldero gave a slight smile. “Our liege is not himself,” he said. “But Katorn is right. The Eldren bitch will be useful to us.”

  “I understand her usefulness as a hostage,” I said, “but I do not understand this reference to ‘the Ghost Worlds’. I’ve heard them spoken of once before. What are they, Roldero?”

  “The Ghost Worlds? Why, we all know of them. I should have thought that you would, too. But we do not often speak of them.”

  “Why so?”

  “Humankind fear Arjavh’s allies so much that they will rarely mention them, in terror of conjuring them up by their words, you understand.”

  “I do not understand.”

  Roldero rubbed his nose and coughed. “I am not superstitious, Erekosë,” he said. “Like yourself.”

  “I know. But what are the Ghost Worlds?”

  Roldero seemed nervous. “I’ll tell you, but I’m uncomfortable about doing so in this cursed place. The Eldren know better than we what the Ghost Worlds are. We had thought, at first, that you yourself were a prisoner there. That was why I was surprised.”

  “Where are they?”

  “The Ghost Worlds lie beyond Earth—beyond Time and beyond Space—linked to Earth only by the most tenuous of bonds.”

  Roldero’s voice dropped, but he whispered on.

  “There, on the torn Ghost Worlds, dwell the many-coiled serpents which are the terror and the scourge of the eight dimensions. Here, also, live ghosts and men—those who are manlike and those who are unlike men—those who know that their fate is to live without Time, and those who are unaware of their doom. And there, also, do kinfolk to the Eldren dwell—the halflings.”

  “But what are these worlds?” I asked impatiently.

  Roldero licked his lips. “They are the worlds to which human sorcerers sometimes go in search of alien wisdom, and from which they draw helpers of horrible powers and disgusting deeds. It is said that within those worlds an initiate may meet his long-slain comrades, who may sometimes help him; his dead loves and his dead kin, and particularly his enemies—those whom he has caused to die. Malevolent enemies with great powers—or wretches who are half-souled and incomplete.”

  His whispered words convinced me, perhaps because I had drunk so much. Was it these Ghost Worlds that were the origin of my strange dreams? I wanted to know more.

  “But what are they, Roldero? Where are they?”

  Roldero shook his head. “I do not concern myself with such mysteries, Erekosë. I have never been much of a mystic. I believe—but I do not probe. I know of no answer to either of your questions.

  They are worlds full of shadow and gloomy shores upon which drab seas beat. The populace can sometimes be summoned by powerful sorcery to visit this Earth, to haunt, to help—or to terrorise. We think that the Eldren came, originally, from these half-worlds if they were not, as our legends say, spawned from the womb of a wicked queen who gave her virginity to Azmobaana in return for immortality—the immortality which her offspring inherited. But the Eldren are material enough, for all their lack of souls, whereas the Ghost Armies are rarely solid flesh.”

  “And Ermizhad?”

  “The Wanton of the Ghost Worlds.”

  “Why is she called that?”

  “It is said that she mates with ghouls,” muttered Count Roldero. He shrugged and drank more wine. “And in return for giving her favours to them, she receives special powers over the halflings who are friends with the ghouls. The halflings love her, I’m told, as far as it’s possible for such creatures to love.”

  I could not believe it. The girl seemed young. Innocent. I said as much.

  Roldero gestured dismissively. “How do you tell the age of an Immortal? Look at yourself. How old are you, Erekosë? Thirty? You look no older.”

  “But I have not lived for ever,” I said. “At least, not in one body, I do not think.”

  “But how do you tell?”

  I could not answer him, of course. “Well, I think there’s a great deal of superstition mixed up in your tale, Roldero,” I said. “I would not have expected it of you, old friend.”

  “Believe me or not,” Roldero muttered. “But you would do better to believe me until I am proved a liar, eh?”

  “Possibly you’re right.”

  “I sometimes wonder at you, Erekosë,” he said. “Here you are owing your own existence to an incantation, and you are the most sceptical man I know!”

  I smiled at this. “Yes, Roldero. I should indeed believe more.”

  “Come,” said Roldero, moving towards the prone king, who lay on his face in a pool of wine. “Let’s get our lord to bed before he drowns.”

  Together we
picked up the king and called for a soldier to help us as we hauled Rigenos up the stairs and dumped him on his bed.

  Roldero put a huge hand on my shoulder. “And stop brooding, friend. It will do no good. Think you that I enjoy the slaughter of children? The rape of young girls?” He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand as if to rid it of a foul taste. “But if it is not done now, Erekosë, it will be done at some time to our children and to our young girls. I know the Eldren are beautiful. But so are many snakes. So are some kinds of wolf that prey on sheep. It is braver to do what has to be done than it is to pretend to yourself that you are not doing it. You follow me?”

  We stood in the king’s bedchamber staring at each other.

  “You are very kind, Roldero,” I said.

  “It’s well-meant advice,” he told me.

  “I know it is.”

  “It was not your decision to slaughter the children,” he said.

  “But it was my decision to say little of it to King Rigenos,” I replied.

  At the mention of his name, the king stirred and began to mumble in his stupor.

  “Come,” grinned Roldero. “Let’s get out of here before he remembers the words of that dirty song he promised to sing us.”

  We parted in the corridor outside the chamber. Count Roldero looked at me with some concern. “These actions must be made,” he said. “It has befallen us to be the instruments of a decision made some centuries ago. Do not bother yourself with matters of conscience. The future may see us as bloody-handed butchers. But we know we are not. We are men. We are warriors. And we are at war with those who would destroy us.”

  I said nothing, but put my hand on his shoulder, then turned and walked back to my lonely apartments.

  In my mental discomfort, I had all but forgotten the girl until I saw the guard at my door.

  “Is the prisoner secure?” I asked him.

  “There is no way out,” the guard said. “No way, at least, Lord Erekosë, that a human could take. But if she were to summon her halfling allies…”

  “We’ll concern ourselves with those when they materialise,” I told him. He unlocked the door for me and I entered.

  There was only one lamp burning and I could barely see. I took a taper from a table and with it lit another lamp.

  The Eldren girl lay on the bed. Her eyes were closed, but her cheeks were stained with tears.

  So they cry like us, too, I thought.

  I tried not to disturb her, but she opened her eyes and I thought I saw fear in them, though it was difficult to tell, for the eyes really were strange—without orbs and flecked with gold and blue. Seeing those eyes, I remembered what Roldero had told me and I began to believe him.

  “How are you?” I asked inanely.

  Her lips parted, but she did not speak.

  “I do not intend to harm you,” I said weakly. “I would have spared the children if I could. I would have spared the warriors in the battle. But I have only the power to lead men to kill each other. I have no power to save their lives.”

  She frowned.

  “I am Erekosë,” I said.

  “Erekosë?” The name was music when she spoke it. She pronounced it more familiarly than I did myself.

  “You know who I am?”

  “I know who you were.”

  “I am reborn,” I said. “Do not ask me how.”

  “You do not seem happy to be reborn, Erekosë.”

  I shrugged.

  “Erekosë,” she said again. And then she voiced a low, bitter laugh.

  “Why do you laugh?”

  But she would not speak again. I tried to converse with her further. She closed her eyes. I left the room and went to the bed next door.

  The wine had worked at last—or something had—for I slept without dreaming.

  15

  THE RETURNING

  NEXT MORNING I arose, washed myself, dressed and knocked on Ermizhad’s door.

  There was no reply.

  Thinking that she had, perhaps, escaped and that Katorn would be instantly suspicious that I had helped her, I flung open the door and entered.

  She had not escaped. She still lay on the bed, but now her eyes were open again as she stared at the ceiling. Those eyes were as mysterious to me as the star-flecked depths of the universe.

  “Did you sleep well?” I asked.

  She did not reply.

  “Are you ill?” was my next, rather stupid question. But she had plainly decided to communicate with me no further. I made one last attempt and then left, going down to the great hall. Here Roldero was waiting for me and there were a few other marshals, looking the worse for wear, but King Rigenos and Katorn were not present.

  Roldero’s eyes twinkled. “There are no drums beating in your skull by the look of you.”

  He was right. I had not considered it, but I suffered no after-effects from the huge quantities of wine drunk the night before.

  “I feel very good,” I said.

  “Ah, now I believe you are an Immortal!” he laughed. “I have not escaped so lightly. Neither, it seems, have King Rigenos and Lord Katorn, or some of the others who were enjoying themselves so much last night.” He drew closer and said quietly: “And I hope you are in better spirits today, my friend.”

  “I suppose that I am,” I said. I felt drained of emotion, in fact.

  “Good. And what of that Eldren creature? Still safe?”

  “Still safe.”

  “She did not try to seduce you?”

  “On the contrary, she will not speak to me at all!”

  “Just as well.” Roldero looked around impatiently. “I hope they get up soon. There’s much to discuss. Do we carry on inland or what?”

  “I thought we agreed that the best plan was to leave a good force here, strong enough to defend the city, and get back to the Two Continents to re-equip and to check any attempt to invade us while our fleet’s at Paphanaal.”

  Roldero nodded. “It’s the most sensible plan. But I do not like it very much. While it has logic, it does not suit my impatience to get at the enemy as soon as possible.”

  I agreed with him. “I would like to have done with this as soon as I am able,” I told him.

  But we had little clear idea where the rest of the Eldren forces were marshaled. There were four other major cities on the continent of Mernadin. The chief of these was Loos Ptokai, which lay near to the Plains of Melting Ice. This was Arjavh’s headquarters and, from what the Eldren on the flagship had said, he was either there now or marching to recapture Paphanaal. It seemed to us that he would attempt this, because Paphanaal was the most important position on the coast. With it in our hands, we had a good harbour in which to bring our ships and land our men.

  And if Arjavh did march against us, then all we had to do was save our energy and wait. We thought that we could leave our main force in Paphanaal, return to our own base at Noonos, bringing back the divisions of warriors who, because of insufficient ships, had been unable to come with us on the preliminary expedition.

  But Roldero had something else on his mind. “We must not forget the sorcerous fortresses of the Outer Islands,” he told me. “They lie at World’s Edge. The Outer Islands should be taken as soon as possible.”

  “What exactly are the Outer Islands? Why are they so strategic?” I asked him. “And why haven’t they been mentioned before in our plans?”

  “Ah,” said Count Roldero. “Ah, it is because of our reluctance, particularly when at home, to discuss the Ghost Worlds.”

  I made a sign of mock despair. “The Ghost Worlds again!”

  “The Outer Islands lie in the gateway to the Ghost Worlds,” Roldero said seriously. “From there the Eldren can summon their ghoulish allies. Perhaps, now Paphanaal is taken, we should concentrate on smashing their strength in the west—at World’s Edge.”

  Had I been wrong to be so sceptical? Or was Roldero overestimating the power of the Ghost World denizens? “Roldero, have you ever seen these halfling
s?” I asked him.

  “Oh, yes, my friend,” he replied. “You are wrong if you believe them legendary beings. They are, in one sense, real enough.”

  I became more convinced. I trusted Roldero’s opinions more than most.

  “Then perhaps we should alter our strategy slightly,” I said. “We can leave the main army here to wait for Arjavh to march against the city and waste his strength trying to take it from the land side. We return to Noonos with the large portion of the fleet, add any new ships that are ready to our force, take fresh warriors aboard—and sail against the Outer Islands while, if we are right, Arjavh expends his own force trying to retake Paphanaal.”

  Roldero nodded. “It seems a wise plan to me, Erekosë. But what of the girl, our hostage? How shall we use her to our best advantage?”

  I frowned. I did not like the idea of using her at all. I wondered where she would be safest.

  “I suppose we should keep her as far away from here as possible,” I said. “Necranal would be best. There is little chance of her people being able to rescue her and she would have a difficult time getting back if she managed to escape. What do you think?”

  Roldero nodded. “I think you are right. That’s sensible.”

  “We must discuss all this with the king, of course,” I said gravely.

  “Of course,” said Roldero, and winked.

  “And Katorn,” I added.

  “And Katorn,” he agreed. “Especially Katorn.”

  * * *

  It was well after noon before we had the chance to speak with Katorn or the king. Both were pale-faced and were quick to agree with our suggestions as if they would agree to anything as long as they were left alone.

  “We’ll establish our position here,” I told the king, “and set sail back to Noonos within the week. We should waste no time. Now that we have gained Paphanaal, we can expect savage counter-attacks from the Eldren.”

  “Aye,” muttered Katorn. He was red-eyed. “And you are right to try to block off Arjavh’s summoning of his frightful Ghost Armies.”

  “I am glad you approve of my plan, Lord Katorn,” I said.

  His smile was twisted. “You’re proving yourself, my lord, after all. Still a little soft towards our enemies, but you’re beginning to realise what they’re like.”