The Eternal Champion

by Michael Moorcock

  “Let them fare how they will,” Ermizhad said. “Your duty is not to them. It is to yourself.”

  I sipped some wine. Then I said quietly: “I am afraid.”

  Arjavh shook his head. “You are brave. It is not your fault.”

  “Who knows?” I said. “Perhaps at some stage in one of my incarnations I committed an enormous crime. And now I am paying the price.”

  “That is self-pitying speculation,” Arjavh reminded me. “It is not—it is not—manly, Erekosë.”

  I inhaled deeply. “I suppose not.” Then I looked at him. “But if Time is cyclic—in some form, at least—it could be that I have not yet committed that crime.”

  “It is idle to speak of ‘crime’ in this way,” Ermizhad said impatiently. “What does your heart tell you to do?”

  “My heart? I have not listened to it for many months.”

  “Listen to it now!” she said.

  I shook my head. “I have forgotten how to listen to it, Ermizhad. I must finish what I set out to do. What I was called here to do.”

  “Are you sure it was King Rigenos who called you?”

  “Who else?”

  Arjavh smiled. “This, too, is idle speculation. You must do what you must do, Erekosë. I will plead for my people no longer.”

  “Thank you for that,” I said. I rose, staggered slightly and screwed up my eyes. “Gods! I am so weary!”

  “Rest here tonight,” Ermizhad said quietly. “Rest with me.”

  I looked at her.

  “With me,” she said.

  Arjavh began to speak, changed his mind and left the room.

  I realised then that I wanted nothing else but to do as Ermizhad suggested. Yet I shook my head. “It would be weakness.”

  “No,” she said. “It would give you strength. It would enable you to make a clearer decision.”

  “I have made my decision. Besides, my oath to Iolinda…”

  “You swore no oath of faithfulness.”

  I spread my hands. “I cannot remember.”

  She moved towards me and stroked my face. “Perhaps it would end something,” she suggested. “Perhaps it would restore your love for Iolinda.”

  Now physical pain seemed to seize me. I even wondered for a moment if they had poisoned me. “No.”

  “It would help,” she said. “I know it would help. How, I am not sure. I do not even know if it suits my own desires, but…”

  “I cannot weaken now, Ermizhad.”

  “Erekosë, it would not be weakness!”

  “Still…”

  She turned away from me and said in a soft, strange tone, “Then rest here anyway. Sleep in a good bed so that you will be fit for tomorrow’s fighting. I love you, Erekosë. I love you more than I love anything. I will aid you in whatever course of action you decide upon.”

  “I have already decided,” I reminded her. “And you cannot aid me there.” I felt dizzy. I did not want to return to my own camp in that condition, for they would be sure I had been drugged and would lose all confidence in me. Better to stay the night and greet my troops refreshed. “Very well, I will stay here tonight,” I said. “Alone.”

  “As you wish, Erekosë.” She moved towards the door. “A servant will come to show you where to sleep.”

  “I’ll sleep in this room,” I told her. “Have someone bring in a bed.”

  “As you wish.”

  “It will be good to sleep in a real bed,” I said. “My thoughts will be sharper in the morning.”

  “I hope so. Goodnight, Erekosë.”

  * * *

  Had they known that the dreams would return that night? Was I the victim of immense and subtle cunning such as only the unhuman Eldren possessed?

  I lay on my bed in the Eldren fortress city and I dreamed.

  But this was not a dream in which I sought to discover my true name. I had no name in this dream. I did not want a name.

  * * *

  I watched the world turning and I saw its inhabitants running about its surface like ants in a hill, like beetles in a dungheap. I saw them fighting and destroying, making peace and building—only to drag those buildings down again in another inevitable war. And it seemed to me that these creatures had evolved only so far from the beast state and that some quirk of destiny had doomed them to repeat, over and over again, the same mistakes. And I realised that there was no hope for them—these imperfect creatures that were halfway from the animals, halfway from the gods—that it was their fate, like mine, to struggle for ever and forever fail to be fulfilled. The paradoxes that existed in me existed in the whole race. The problems for which I could find no solution in fact had no solution. There was no point in seeking an answer; one could only accept what existed or else reject it, as one pleased. It would always be the same. Oh, there was much to love them for and nothing at all to hate them for. How could they be hated, when their errors resulted from the quirk of fate that had made them the half-creatures that they were—half-blind, half-deaf, half-dumb…

  * * *

  I woke up and felt very calm. And then, gradually, a sense of terror possessed me as the implications of my thoughts began to dawn on me.

  Had the Eldren sent this dream—with their sorcery?

  I did not think so. This dream was the dream that the other dreams had sought to hide from me. I was sure of it. This was the stark truth.

  And the stark truth horrified me.

  It was not my fate to wage eternal war—it was the fate of my entire race. As part of that race—as its representative, in fact—I, too, must wage eternal war.

  And that is what I wished to avoid. I could not bear the thought of fighting for ever, wherever I was required. And yet whatever I did to try to end the cycle would be hopeless. There was only one thing I could do.

  I buried the thought.

  But what else?

  Try for peace? See if it would work? Let the Eldren live?

  Arjavh had expressed impatience with idle speculation. But this, too, was idle speculation. The human race was sworn to destroy the Eldren. This done, of course, it would then turn upon itself again and begin the perpetual squabbling, the constant warring that its peculiar destiny decreed for it.

  And yet—should I not, at least, attempt to make the compromise?

  Or should I continue with my original ambition, destroy the Eldren, let the race resume its fratricidal sport? In a way it seemed to me that, while some Eldren lived, the race might hold together. If the common enemy remained, at least some sort of unity would exist in the Human Kingdoms. It seemed critical to me then that some Eldren be spared—for the sake of Humanity.

  I suddenly realised that there was no contradiction in my loyalties at all. What I had thought was contradictory was, in fact, two halves of a whole. The dream had merely helped me unite them and see everything clearly.

  Perhaps this was a complex piece of rationalization. I shall never know. I feel that I was right, though it is possible that subsequent events proved me wrong. At least I tried.

  I sat up in my bed as a servant came in with water for me to wash and my own clothes freshly laundered. I washed, dressed myself and when a knock came at the door I called out for the person to enter.

  It was Ermizhad. She brought me my breakfast and set it on the table. I thanked her and she looked at me oddly.

  “You seem to have changed since last night,” she said. “You seem more at one with yourself.”

  “I think I am,” I told her as I ate. “I had another dream last night.”

  “Was it as terrifying as the others?”

  “More terrifying in certain aspects,” I said. “But it did not raise problems, this time. It offered me a solution.”

  “You feel you can fight better.”

  “If you like. I think it would be in the interest of my race if we made peace with the Eldren. Or, at least, declared a permanent truce.”

  “You have realised at last that we offer you no danger.”

  “On the
contrary, it is the very danger you offer that makes your survival necessary to my race.” I smiled, remembering an old aphorism from somewhere. “If you did not exist, it would be necessary to invent you.”

  A look of intelligence brightened her face. She smiled, too. “I think I understand you.”

  “Therefore, I intend to present this conclusion to Queen Iolinda,” I said. “I hope to persuade her that it is in our interest to end this war against the Eldren.”

  “And your terms?”

  “I see no need to make terms with you,” I said. “We will merely stop fighting and go away.”

  She laughed. “Will it be so easy?”

  I looked squarely at her, deliberated for a moment, and then I shook my head. “Perhaps not. But I must try.”

  “You have become very rational suddenly, Erekosë. I am glad. Your sleep here did do you some good, then.”

  “And the Eldren, too, perhaps.”

  She smiled again. “Perhaps.”

  “I will return to Necranal as soon as possible and speak with Iolinda.”

  “And if she agrees, you will marry her?”

  I felt weak, then. At last I said: “I must do that. Everything would be negated if I did not. You understand?”

  “Entirely,” she said and there were tears in her eyes as she smiled.

  * * *

  Arjavh came in a few minutes later and I told him what I intended to do. He received the news rather more sceptically than Ermizhad.

  “You do not think I mean what I say?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “I believe you completely, Erekosë. But I do not think the Eldren will survive.”

  “What is it? Some disease? Something in you that…?”

  He laughed shortly. “No, no. I think you will propose a truce and that the people will not let you make it. Your race will only be satisfied when every Eldren has perished. You said that it is their destiny always to fight. Could it not be that secretly they resent the Eldren because the presence of the Eldren means that they cannot go about their normal activities—I mean by that their fighting amongst themselves? Could this be nothing more than a pause before they wipe us out? And if they do not wipe us out now, they will do it very soon, whether you lead them or no.”

  “Still, I must try,” I said.

  “Try by all means. But they’ll hold you to your vow, I’m sure.”

  “Iolinda is intelligent. If she listens to my arguments…”

  “She is one of them. I doubt if she will listen. Intelligence has little to do with it. Last night when I pleaded with you, I was not myself—I panicked. I know, really, that there can be no peace.”

  “I must try.”

  “I hope you succeed.”

  Perhaps I had been beguiled by the charms of the Eldren, but I did not think so. I would do my best to bring peace to the wasted land of Mernadin, though it meant I could never see my Eldren friends again—never see Ermizhad.

  I put the thought from my head and resolved to dwell upon it no longer.

  Then a servant entered the room. My herald, accompanied by several marshals, including Count Roldero, had presented himself outside the gates of Loos Ptokai, half-certain that I had been murdered by the Eldren.

  “Only sight of you will reassure them,” Arjavh murmured. I agreed and left the room.

  I heard the herald calling as I approached the city wall. “We fear that you have been guilty of great treachery. Let us see our master—or his corpse.” He paused. “Then we shall know what to do.”

  Arjavh and I mounted the steps to the battlements and I saw relief in the herald’s eyes as he noted I was unharmed.

  “I have been talking with Prince Arjavh,” I said. “And I have been thinking deeply. Our men are weary beyond endurance and the Eldren are now only a few, with just this city in their possession. We could take Loos Ptokai, but I see no point to it. Let us be generous victors, my marshals. Let us declare a truce.”

  “A truce, Lord Erekosë!” Count Roldero’s eyes widened. “Would you rob us of our ultimate prize? Our final, fierce fulfilment? Our greatest triumph? Peace!”

  “Yes,” I said, “peace. Now go back. Tell our warriors I am safe.”

  “We can take this city easily, Erekosë,” Roldero shouted. “There’s no need to talk of peace. We can destroy the Eldren once and for all. Have you succumbed to their cursed enchantments again? Have they beguiled you with their smooth words?”

  “No,” I said, “it was I who suggested it.”

  Roldero swung his horse around in disgust.

  “Peace!” he spat as he and his comrades headed back to the camp. “Our Champion’s gone mad!”

  Arjavh rubbed his lips with his finger. “Already, I see, there is trouble.”

  “They fear me,” I told him, “and they’ll obey me. They’ll obey me—for a while, at least.”

  “Let us hope so,” he said.

  24

  THE PARTING

  THIS TIME THERE were no cheering crowds in Necranal to welcome me, for news of my mission had gone ahead of me. The people could hardly believe it but where they did believe it, they disapproved. I had shown weakness, in their eyes.

  I had not seen Iolinda, of course, since she had become queen. She had a haughty look now as she strode about her throne room, awaiting me.

  Privately I was a little amused. I felt like the man who, as an old rejected suitor, returns to see the object of his passion married and become a shrew. I was, therefore, somewhat relieved.

  It was a small relief.

  “Well, Erekosë,” she said. “I know why you are here—why you have forsaken your troops, gone against your word to me that you would destroy every Eldren. Katorn has told me.”

  “Katorn is here?”

  “He came here as soon as he heard your pronouncement from the battlements of Loos Ptokai, where you stood with your Eldren friends.”

  “Iolinda,” I said urgently. “I am convinced that the Eldren are weary of war, that they never intended to threaten the Two Continents at all. They want only peace.”

  “Peace we shall have. When the Eldren race has perished.”

  “Iolinda, if you love me, you will listen to me, at least.”

  “If I love you? And what of the Lord Erekosë? Does he still love his queen?”

  I opened my mouth, but I could not speak.

  And suddenly there were tears in her eyes. “Oh, Erekosë.” Her tone softened. “Can it be true?”

  “No,” I said thickly. “I still love you, Iolinda. We are to be married.”

  But she knew. She had suspected; but now she knew. However, if peace could result from my action, I was still prepared to pretend, to lie, to declare my passion for her, to marry her.

  “I still want to marry you, Iolinda,” I said.

  “No,” she said. “No. You do not.”

  “I will,” I said desperately. “If peace with the Eldren comes about…”

  Again her wide eyes blazed. “You insult me, my lord. Not on those terms, Erekosë. Never. You are guilty of high treason against us. The people already speak of you as a traitor.”

  “But I conquered a continent for them. I took Mernadin.”

  “All but Loos Ptokai—where your wanton Eldren bitch waits for you.”

  “Iolinda! That is not true!”

  But it was almost true.

  “You are unfair…” I began.

  “And you are a traitor! Guards!”

  As if they had been prepared for this, a dozen of the Imperial Guards rushed in, led by their captain, Lord Katorn. There was a hint of triumph in his eyes and then I knew for certain that he had always hated me because he desired Iolinda.

  And I knew, whether I drew my sword or not, he would slay me where I stood.

  So I drew my sword. The sword Kanajana. It glowed and the glow was reflected in Katorn’s black eyes.

  “Take him, Katorn!” cried Iolinda. And her voice was a scream of agony. I had betrayed her. I had failed to be the st
rength she needed so desperately. “Take him. Alive or dead. He is a traitor to his kind!”

  I was a traitor to her. That was what she really meant. That was why I must die.

  But I still hoped to save something. “It is untrue…” I began. But Katorn was already cautiously advancing, his men spreading out behind him. I backed to a wall, near a window. The throne room was on the first storey of the palace. Outside were the private gardens of the queen. “Think, Iolinda,” I said. “Retract your command. You are driven by jealousy. I’m no traitor.”

  “Slay him, Katorn!”

  But I slew Katorn. As he came rushing at me, my sword flicked across his writhing, hate-filled face. He screamed, staggered, his hands rushed up to his head and then he toppled in his golden armour, toppled and fell with a crash to the flagstones.

  He was the first human I was to slay.

  The other guards came on, but more warily. I fought off their blades, slew a couple more, drove the others back, glimpsed Queen Iolinda watching me, her eyes full of tears, and leaped to the sill of the window.

  “Goodbye, Queen. You have lost your champion now.”

  I jumped.

  I landed in a rosebush that ripped at my skin, broke free and ran towards the gate of the garden, the guards behind me.

  I tore the gate open and rushed down the hill and into the twisting streets of Necranal, with the guards in pursuit, their ranks joined by a howling pack of citizens who had no idea why I was wanted or even who I was. They chased me for the sheer pleasure of the hunt. My situation reflected more than ever the perpetual paradox of my life since I had obeyed Humanity’s summons. Not long since I had led them. I had been the most powerful man in the world. And now, suddenly, I was a fugitive, running through the streets like a common pickpocket.

  So it was thus that things turned. Iolinda’s pain and jealousy had clouded her mind. And soon her decision would be the cause of more bloodshed than even she had demanded.

  I ran, blindly at first, and then towards the river. My crew, I hoped, would still be loyal to me. If they were, then there was a faint chance of escape. I gained the ship just before my pursuers. I leaped aboard screaming:

  “Prepare to sail!”

  Only half the crew was aboard. The rest was on shore, in the taverns, but those remaining hurriedly shipped out the oars while we held the guards and the citizens at bay.