The Best of Michael Moorcock

by Michael Moorcock

  “Why?” he asked eagerly.

  She shook her head. Her long, fine hair waved with the motion. “I don’t really know. Something about their being trapped here—something like that. Farlowe said something about you being a ‘key’ to their release. They can only do what they want to do with your agreement.”

  “But I could agree and then break my word!”

  “I don’t think you could—but honestly, I don’t know any more. I’ve probably got it wrong. Do you like me, Lee?”

  He was startled by the directness of her question. “Yes,” he said, “very much.”

  “Farlowe said you would. Good, isn’t it?”

  “Why—yes. Farlowe knows a lot.”

  “That’s why he works against them.”

  Martha came in. “Almost ready,” she smiled. “I think I’ll have a quick one before I start serving. How are you feeling, Lee, after your ride?”

  “Fine,” he said, “fine.” He had never been in a position like this one—with two women both of whom were extremely attractive for almost opposite reasons.

  “We were discussing why the people at the fortress wanted my help,” he said, turning the conversation back the way he felt it ought to go if he was ever going to get off this world and back to his own and his work.

  “Farlowe said something about it.”

  “Yes, Sally told me. Does Farlowe belong to some sort of underground organisation?”

  “Underground? Why, yes, in a way he does.”

  “Aren’t they strong enough to fight the Man Without A Navel and his friends?”

  “Farlowe says they’re strong enough, but divided over what should be done and how.”

  “I see. That’s fairly common amongst such groups, I believe.”

  “Yes.”

  “What part do you play?”

  “None, really. Farlowe asked me to put you up—that’s all.” She sipped her drink, her eyes smiling directly into his. He drained his glass.

  “Shall we eat?” she said. “Sally, take Lee into the dining room.”

  The girl got up and, somewhat possessively Seward thought, linked her arm in his. Her young body against his was distracting. He felt a little warm. She took him in. The table was laid for supper. Three chairs and three places. The sun had set and candles burned on the table in brass candelabra. She unlinked her arm and pulled out one of the chairs.

  “You sit here, Lee—at the head of the table.” She grinned. Then she leaned forward as he sat down. “Hope mummy isn’t boring you.”

  He was surprised. “Why should she?”

  Martha came in with three covered dishes on a tray. “This may not have turned out quite right, Lee. Never does when you’re trying hard.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he smiled. The two women sat down one either side of him. Martha served him. It was some sort of goulash with vegetables. He took his napkin and put it on his lap.

  As they began to eat, Martha said: “How is it?”

  “Fine,” he said. It was very good. Apart from the feeling that some kind of rivalry for his attentions existed between mother and daughter the air of normality in the house was comforting. Here, he might be able to do some constructive thinking about his predicament.

  When the meal was over, Martha said: “It’s time for bed, Sally. Say goodnight to Lee.”

  She pouted. “Oh, it’s not fair.”

  “Yes it is,” she said firmly. “You can see Lee in the morning. He’s had a long journey.”

  “All right.” She smiled at Seward. “Sleep well, Lee.”

  “I think I will,” he said.

  Martha chuckled after Sally had gone. “Would you like a drink before you go to bed?” She spoke softly.

  “Love one,” he said.

  They went into the other room. He sat down on the sofa as she mixed the drinks. She brought them over and sat down next to him as her daughter had done earlier.

  “Tell me everything that’s been happening. It sounds so exciting.”

  He knew at once he could tell her all he wanted to, that she would listen and be sympathetic. “It’s terrifying, really,” he began, half-apologetically. He began to talk, beginning with what had happened on Earth. She listened.

  “I even wondered if this was a dream world—a figment of my imagination,” he finished, “but I had to reject that when I went back to my own. I had rope marks on my wrists—my hair was soaking wet. You don’t get that in a dream!”

  “I hope not,” she smiled. “We’re different here, Lee, obviously. Our life doesn’t have the—the shape that yours has. We haven’t much direction, no real desires. We just—well—exist. It’s as if we’re waiting for something to happen. As if—” she paused and seemed to be looking down deep into herself. “Put it this way— Farlowe thinks you’re the key figure in some development that’s happening here. Supposing—supposing we were some kind of—of experiment . . .”

  “Experiment? How do you mean?”

  “Well, from what you say, the people at the fortress have an advanced science that we don’t know about. Supposing our parents, say, had been kidnapped from your world and—made to think—what’s the word—”

  “Conditioned?”

  “Yes, conditioned to think they were natives of this world. We’d have grown up knowing nothing different. Maybe the Man Without A Navel is a member of an alien race—a scientist of some kind in charge of the experiment.”

  “But why should they make such a complicated experiment?”

  “So they could study us, I suppose.”

  Seward marvelled at her deductive powers. She had come to a much firmer theory than he had. But then he thought, she might subconsciously know the truth. Everyone knew much more than they knew, as it were. For instance, it was pretty certain that the secret of the tranquilomat was locked somewhere down in his unconscious if only he could get at it. Her explanation was logical and worth thinking about.

  “You may be right,” he said. “If so, it’s something to go on. But it doesn’t stop my reliance on the drug—or the fact that the Man and his helpers are probably telepathic and are at this moment looking for me.”

  She nodded. “Could there be an antidote for the drug?”

  “Unlikely. Drugs like that don’t really need antidotes—they’re not like poisons. There must be some way of getting at the people in the fortress—some way of putting a stop to their plans. What about an organised revolution? What has Farlowe tried to do?”

  “Nothing much. The people aren’t easy to organise. We haven’t much to do with one another. Farlowe was probably hoping you could help—think of something he hasn’t. Maybe one of those machines you mentioned would work against the fortress people?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Anyway, the hallucinomats are too big to move from one place to another by hand—let alone from one world to another.”

  “And you haven’t been able to build a tranquilomat yet?”

  “No—we have a lot of experimental machines lying around at the lab—they’re fairly small—but it’s a question of modifying them—that’s what I’m trying to do at the moment. If I could make one that works it would solve part of my problem—it would save my world and perhaps even save yours, if you are in a state of conditioning.”

  “It sounds reasonable,” she dropped her eyes and looked at her drink. She held the glass balanced on her knees which were pressed closely together, nearly touching him. “But,” she said, “they’re going to catch you sooner or later. They’re very powerful. They’re sure to catch you. Then they’ll make you agree to their idea.”

  “Why are you so certain?”

  “I know them.”

  He let that go. She said: “Another drink?” and got up.

  “Yes please.” He got up, too, and extended his glass, then went closer to her. She put bottle and glass on the table and looked into his face. There was compassion, mystery, tenderness in her large, dark eyes. He smelled her perfume, warm, pleasant. He put his arms a
round her and kissed her. “My room,” she said. They went upstairs.

  Later that night, feeling strangely revitalised, he left the bed and the sleeping Martha and went and stood beside the window overlooking the silent park. He felt cold and he picked up his shirt and trousers, put them on. He sighed. He felt his mind clear and his body relax. He must work out a way of travelling from this world to his own at will—that might put a stop to the plans of the Man Without A Navel.

  He turned guiltily as he heard the door open. Sally was standing there. She wore a long, white, flowing nightdress.

  “Lee! I came to tell mummy—what are you doing in here?” Her eyes were horrified, accusing him. Martha sat up suddenly.

  “Sally—what’s the matter!”

  Lee stepped forward. “Listen, Sally. Don’t—”

  Sally shrugged, but tears had come to her eyes. “I thought you wanted me! Now I know—I shouldn’t have brought you here. Farlowe said—”

  “What did Farlowe say?”

  “He said you’d want to marry me!”

  “But that’s ridiculous. How could he say that? I’m a stranger here. You were to hide me from the fortress people, that’s all.”

  But she had only picked up one word. “Ridiculous. Yes, I suppose it is, when my own mother . . .”

  “Sally—you’d better go to bed. We’ll discuss it in the morning,” said Martha softly. “What was it you came in about?”

  Sally laughed theatrically. “It doesn’t matter now.” She slammed the door.

  Seward looked at Martha. “I’m sorry, Martha.”

  “It wasn’t your fault—or mine. Sally’s romantic and young.”

  “And jealous,” Seward sat down on the bed. The feeling of comfort, of companionship, of bringing some order out of chaos—it had all faded. “Look, Martha, I can’t stay here.”

  “You’re running away?”

  “If you like—but—well—the two of you—I’m in the middle.”

  “I guessed that. No you’d better stay. We’ll work something out.”

  “Okay.” He got up, sighing heavily. “I think I’ll go for a walk in the park—it may help me to think. I’d just reached the stage where I was getting somewhere. Thanks for that, anyway, Martha.”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry, Lee. I’ll have everything running smoothly again by tomorrow.”

  He didn’t doubt it. She was a remarkable woman.

  He put on his socks and shoes, opened the door and went out onto the landing. Moonlight entered through a tall, slender window at the end. He went down the two flights of stairs and out of the front door. He turned into the lane and entered the arbour. In the cool of the night, he once again was able to begin some constructive thinking.

  While he was on this world, he would not waste his time, he would keep trying to discover the necessary modifications to make the tranquilomats workable.

  He wandered through the arbour, keeping any thoughts of the two women out of his mind. He turned into another section of the arbour he hadn’t noticed before. The turnings became numerous but he was scarcely aware of them. It was probably some sort of child’s maze.

  He paused as he came to a bench. He sat down and folded his arms in front of him, concentrating on his problem.

  Much later he heard a sound to his right and looked up.

  A man he didn’t know was standing there, grinning at him.

  Seward noticed at once that the man had overlong canines, that he smelled of damp earth and decay. He wore a black, polo-neck pullover and black, stained trousers. His face was waxen and very pale.

  “I’ve been looking for you for ages, Professor Seward,” said the Vampire.

  5

  Seward got up and faced the horrible creature. The Vampire continued to smile. He didn’t move. Seward felt revulsion.

  “It’s been a long journey,” said the Vampire in a sibilant voice like the sound of a frigid wind blowing through dead boughs. “I had intended to visit you at the fortress, but when I got to your room you had left. I was disappointed.”

  “Doubtless,” said Seward. “Well, you’ve had a wasted journey. I’m not going back there until I’m ready.”

  “That doesn’t interest me.”

  “What does?” Seward tried to stop himself from trembling.

  The Vampire put his hands into his pockets. “Only you.”

  “Get away from here. You’re outnumbered—I have friends.” But he knew that his tone was completely unconvincing.

  The Vampire hissed his amusement. “They can’t do much, Seward.”

  “What are you—some sort of android made to frighten people?”

  “No.” The Vampire took a pace forward.

  Suddenly he stopped as a voice came faintly from somewhere in the maze.

  “Lee! Lee! Where are you?”

  It was Sally’s voice.

  “Stay away, Sally!” Lee called.

  “But I was going to warn you. I saw the Vampire from the window. He’s somewhere in the park.”

  “I know. Go home!”

  “I’m sorry about the scene, Lee. I wanted to apologise. It was childish.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He looked at the Vampire. He was standing in a relaxed position, hands in pockets, smiling. “Go home, Sally!”

  “She won’t, you know,” whispered the Vampire.

  Her voice was closer. “Lee, I must talk to you.”

  He screamed: “Sally—the Vampire’s here. Go home. Warn your mother, not me. Get some help if you can—but go home!”

  Now he saw her enter the part of the maze he was in. She gasped as she saw them. He was between her and the Vampire.

  “Sally—do what I told you.”

  But the Vampire’s cold eyes widened and he took one hand out of his pocket and crooked a finger. “Come here, Sally.”

  She began to walk forward.

  He turned to the Vampire. “What do you want?”

  “Only a little blood—yours, perhaps—or the young lady’s.”

  “Damn you. Get away. Go back, Sally.” She didn’t seem to hear him.

  He daren’t touch the cold body, the earth-damp clothes. He stepped directly between the girl and the Vampire.

  He felt sick, but he reached out his hands and shoved at the creature’s body. Flesh yielded, but bone did not. The Vampire held his ground, smiling, staring beyond Seward at the girl.

  Seward shoved again and suddenly the creature’s arms clamped around him and the grinning, fanged face darted towards his. The thing’s breath disgusted him. He struggled, but could not break the Vampire’s grasp.

  A cold mouth touched his neck. He yelled and kicked. He felt a tiny pricking against his throat. Sally screamed. He heard her turn and run and felt a fraction of relief.

  He punched with both fists as hard as he could into the creature’s solar plexus. It worked. The Vampire groaned and let go. Seward was disgusted to see that its fangs dripped with blood.

  His blood.

  Now rage helped him. He chopped at the Vampire’s throat. It gasped, tottered, and fell in a sprawl of loose limbs to the ground.

  Panting, Seward kicked it in the head. It didn’t move.

  He bent down and rolled the Vampire over. As far as he could tell it was dead. He tried to remember what he’d read about legendary vampires. Not much. Something about a stake through its heart. Well, that was out.

  But the thought that struck him most was that he had fought one of the fortress people—and had won. It was possible to beat them!

  He walked purposefully through the maze. It wasn’t as tortuous as he’d supposed. Soon he emerged at the arbour entrance near the house. He saw Sally and Martha running towards him. Behind them, another figure lumbered. Farlowe. He had got here fast.

  “Seward,” he shouted. “They said the Vampire had got you!”

  “I got him,” said Seward as they came up and stopped.

  “What?”

  “I beat him.”

  “But—tha
t’s impossible.”

  Seward shrugged. He felt elated. “Evidently, it’s possible,” he said. “I knocked him out. He seems to be dead—but I suppose you never know with vampires.”

  Farlowe was astonished. “I believe you,” he said, “but it’s fantastic. How did you do it?”

  “I got frightened and then angry,” said Seward simply. “Maybe you’ve been overawed by these people too long.”

  “It seems like it,” Farlowe admitted. “Let’s go and have a look at him. Sally and Martha had better stay behind.”

  Seward led him back through the maze. The Vampire was still where he’d fallen. Farlowe touched the corpse with his foot.

  “That’s the Vampire all right.” He grinned. “I knew we had a winner in you, son. What are you going to do now?”

  “I’m going straight back to the fortress and get this worked out once and for all. Martha gave me an idea yesterday evening and she may well be right. I’m going to try and find out anyway.”

  “Better not be over-confident, son.”

  “Better than being over-cautious.”

  “Maybe,” Farlowe agreed doubtfully. “What’s this idea Martha gave you?”

  “It’s really her idea, complete. Let her explain. She’s an intelligent woman—and she’s bothered to think about this problem from scratch. I’d advise you to do the same.”

  “I’ll hear what it is, first. Let’s deal with the Vampire and then get back to the house.”

  “I’ll leave the Vampire to you. I want to use your car.”

  “Why?”

  “To go back to the fortress.”

  “Don’t be a fool. Wait until we’ve got some help.”

  “I can’t wait that long, Farlowe. I’ve got other work to do back on my own world.”

  “Okay,” Farlowe shrugged.

  Farlowe faded.

  The maze began to fade.

  Explosions in the brain.

  Vertigo.

  Sickness.

  His head ached and he could not breathe. He yelled, but he had no voice. Multicoloured explosions in front of his eyes. He was whirling round and round, spinning rapidly. Then he felt a new surface dragging at his feet. He closed his eyes and stumbled against something. He fell onto something soft.