The Fortress of the Pearl eas-2

by Michael Moorcock

  At first delighted by the sight, Elric began to feel a certain sadness, for until now he had not remembered those gardens of childhood, the innocent happiness which conies so rarely to a Melnibonéan, no matter what their age. He thought of his mother, dead in childbirth, of his infinitely mourning father, who had refused to acknowledge the son who, in his opinion, had killed his wife.

  A movement from the depths of this natural hall and Elric again feared danger, but the people who began to emerge were unarmed and they had faces full of restrained melancholy.

  "We have arrived in Marador," whispered Gone with certainty.

  "You are here to join us?" A woman spoke. She wore flowing robes of myriad, glistening colour, mirroring the colours of the rock on walls and roof. She had long hair of faded gold and her eyes were the shade of old pewter. She reached to touch Elric-a greeting- and her hand was cold on his. He felt himself becoming infected with the same sad tranquility and it seemed to him that there could be worse fates than remaining here, recalling the desires and pleasures of his past, when life had been so much simpler and the world had seemed easily conquered, easily improved.

  Behind him Oone said in a voice which sounded unduly harsh to his ear: "We are travellers in your land, my lady. We mean you no harm, but we cannot stay."

  A man spoke. "Travellers? What do you seek?"

  "We seek," said Elric, "the Fortress of the Pearl."

  Oone was clearly displeased by his frankness. "We have no desire to tarry in Marador. We wish only to learn the location of the next gate, the Paranor Crate."

  The man smiled wistfully. "It is lost, I fear. Lost to all of us. Yet there is no harm in loss. There is comfort in it, even, don't you feel?" He turned dreaming, distant eyes on them. "Better not to seek that which can only disappoint. Here we prefer to remember what we most wanted and how it was to want it..."

  "Better, surely, to continue looking for it?" Elric was surprised by his own blunt tone.

  "Why so, sir, when the reality can only prove inadequate when compared against the hope?"

  "Think you so, sir?" Elric was prepared to consider this notion, but Oone's grip on his arm tightened.

  "Remember the name that dreamthieves give this land," she murmured.

  Elric reflected that it was truly the Land of Old Desires. All of his own forgotten yearnings were returning to him, bringing a sense of simplicity and peace. Now he remembered how those sensations had been replaced by anger as he began to realise that there was little likelihood of his dreams ever coming true. He had raged at the injustice of the world. He had flung himself into his sorcerous studies. He had become determined to change the balance of things and introduce greater liberty, greater justice by means of the power he had in the world. Yet his fellow Melnibonéans had refused to accept his logic. The early dreams had begun to fade and with them the hope which had at first lifted his heart. Now here was the hope offered him again. Perhaps there were realms where all he desired was true? Perhaps Marador was such a world.

  "If I went back and found Cymoril and brought her here, we could live in harmony with these people, I think," he said to Oone.

  The dreamthief was almost contemptuous.

  "This is called the Land of Old Desires-not the Land of Fulfilled Desire! There is a difference. The emotions you feel are easy and easily maintained-while the reality remains out of your reach, while you merely long for the unattainable. When you set out to discover fulfillment, Elric of Melniboné, then you achieved stature in the world. Turn your back on that determination-your own determination to help build a world where justice reigns-and you'll lose my respect. You'll lose respect for yourself. You'll prove yourself a liar and you'll prove me a fool for believing you could help me save the Holy Girl!"

  Elric was shocked by her outburst, which seemed offensive hi that particular atmosphere of serenity. "But I think it is impossible to build such a world. Better to have the prospect, surely, than the knowledge of failure?"

  "That is what all hi this realm believe. Remain here, if you will, and believe what they believe forever. But I think one must always make an attempt at justice, no matter how poor the prospect of success!"

  Elric felt tired and wished to settle down and rest. He yawned and stretched. "These people seem to have a secret I would learn. I think I will talk to them for a while before continuing."

  "Do so and Anigh dies. The Holy Girl dies. And everything of yourself that you value, that dies also." Gone did not raise her voice. She spoke almost in a matter-of-fact tone. But her words had an urgency which broke Elric's mood. It was not for the first time that he had considered retreating into dreams. Had he done so, his people would now be ruled by him, and Yyrkoon would be dead or exiled.

  Thought of his cousin and his cousin's ambition, of Cymoril waiting for him to return so that they might be married, helped remind Elric of his purpose here and he shook off the mood of reconciliation, of retreat. He bowed to the people of the cavern. "I thank you for your generosity, but my own path lies forward, through the Paranor Gate."

  Oone drew a deep breath, perhaps in relief. "Tune's not measured in any familiar way here, Prince Elric, but be assured it's passing more rapidly than I would like..."

  It was with a sense of deep regret that Elric left the melancholy people behind him and followed her further into the glowing caverns.

  Oone added: "These lands are well-called. Be wary of the familiar."

  "Perhaps we could have rested there? Restored our energies?" said Elric.

  "Aye. And died full of sweet melancholy."

  He looked at her in surprise and saw that she had not been unaffected by the atmosphere. "Is that what befell Alnac Kreb?"

  "Of course not!" She recovered herself. "He was fully able to resist so obvious a trap."

  Elric now felt ashamed. "I almost failed the first real test of my determination and my discipline."

  "We dreamthieves have the advantage of having been tested thus many times," she told him. "It gets easier to confront, though the lure remains as strong."

  "For you, too."

  "Why not? You think I have no forgotten desires, nothing I would not wish to dream of? No childhood which had its sweet moments?"

  "Forgive me, madam."

  She shrugged. "There's an attraction to that aspect of the past. To the past in general, I suppose. But we forget the other aspects-those things which forced us into fantasy in the first place."

  "You're a believer in the future, then, madam?" Elric tried to joke. The rock beneath their feet became slippery and they were forced to make the gentle descent with more caution. Ahead Elric thought he heard again the sound of the river, perhaps where it now raced underground.

  "The future holds as many traps as the past," she said with a smile. "I am a believer in the present, my lord. In the eternal present." And there was an edge to her voice, as if she had not always held this view.

  "Speculation and regret offer many temptations, I suppose," said Elric; then he gasped at what he saw ahead.

  Molten gold was cascading down two well-worn channels in the rock, forming a gigantic V-shaped edifice. The metal flowed unchecked and yet as they approached it became obvious that it was not hot. Some other agent had caused the effect, perhaps a chemical in the rock itself. As the gold reached the floor of the cavern it spread into a pool and the pool in turn fed a brook which bubbled, brilliant with the precious stuff, down towards another stream which seemed at first to contain ordinary water, but when Elric looked more carefully he saw that that stream was, in turn, comprised of silver and the two elements blended as they met. Following the course of this stream with his eyes, he saw that they met, some distance away, with a further river, this one of glistening scarlet, which might be liquid rubies. In all his travels, in the Young Kingdoms and the realms of the supernatural, Elric had seen nothing like it. He made to move towards it, to inspect it further, but she checked him.

  "We have reached the next gate," she said. "Ignore that partic
ular wonder, my lord. Look."

  She pointed between twin streams of gold and he could just make out something shadowy beyond. "There is Paranor. Are you ready to enter that land?"

  Remembering the dreamthieves' term for it, Elric allowed himself an ironic smile. "As ready as I shall ever be, madam."

  Then, just as he stepped towards the portal, there came the sound of galloping hooves behind them. They rang sharply on the rock of the cavern. They echoed through the gloomy roof, through a thousand chambers, and Elric had no time to turn before something heavy struck his shoulder and he was flung to one side. He had the impression of a deathly white horse, of a rider wearing armour of ivory, mother-of-pearl and pale tortoiseshell, and then it was gone through the gate of molten gold and disappearing into the shadows beyond. But there was no doubt in EIric's mind that he had encountered one of the warriors who had already attacked him on the bridge. He had the impression of the same mocking chuckle as the hooves faded and the sound was absorbed by whatever lay beyond the gate.

  "We have an enemy," said Oone. Her face was grim and she clenched her hands to her sides, clearly taking a grip on herself. "We have been identified already. The Fortress of the Pearl does not merely defend. She attacks."

  "You know those riders? You have seen them before?"

  She shook her head. "I know their kind, that's all."

  "And we've no means of avoiding them?"

  "Very few." She was frowning to herself again, considering some problem she was not prepared to discuss. Then she seemed to dismiss it and taking his arm led him under the twin cascades of cool gold into a further cavern, which this time suddenly filled with a gentle green glow, as if they walked beneath a canopy of leaves in autumn sunlight. And Elric was reminded of Old Melniboné, at the height of her power, when his people were proud enough to take the whole world for granted, when entire nations had been remoulded for their passing pleasure. As they emerged into a further cavern, so vast he did not at first realise they were still underground, he saw the spires and minarets of a city, glowing with the same warm green, which was as beautiful as his own beloved Imrryr, the Dreaming City, which he had explored throughout his boyhood.

  "It is like Imrryr and yet it is not like Imrryr at all," he said in surprise.

  "No," she said, "it is like London. It is like Tanelorn. It is like Ras-Paloom-Atai." And she did not speak sarcastically. She spoke as if she really did believe the city resembled those other cities, only one of which Elric recognised.

  "But you have seen it before. What is it called?"

  "It has no name," she said. "It has all names. It is called whatever you desire to call it." And she turned away, as if resting herself, before she led him onward down the road past the city.

  "Should we not visit it? There may be people there who can help us find our way."

  Gone gestured. "And there may be those who would hamper us. It is now clear, Prince Elric, that our mission is suspected and that certain forces could well have the intention of stopping us at any cost."

  "You think the Sorcerer Adventurers have followed us?"

  "Or preceded us. Leaving at least something of themselves here." She was peering cautiously towards the city.

  "It seems such a peaceful place," said Elric. The more he looked at the city the more he was impressed by the architecture, all of the same greenish stone but varying from yellow to blue. There were vast buttresses and curving bridges between one tower and another; there were spires as delicate as cobwebs yet so tall they almost disappeared into the roofs of the cavern. It seemed to reflect some part of him which he could not at once recall. He longed to go there. He grew resentful of Oone's guidance, though he had sworn to follow it, and began to believe that she herself was lost, that she was no better suited to discover their goal than was he.

  "We must continue," she said. She was speaking more urgently now.

  "I know I would find something within that city which would make Imrryr great again. And in her greatness I could lead her to dominate the world. But this tune, instead of bringing cruelty and terror, we could bring beauty and good will."

  "You are more prone to illusion than I thought, Prince Elric," said Oone.

  He turned to her angrily. "What's wrong with such ambitions?"

  "They are unrealistic. As unreal as that city."

  "The city looks solid enough to me."

  "Solid? Aye, in its way. Once you enter its gate it will embrace you as thoroughly as any long-lost lover! Come then, sir. Come!" She seemed seized by an equally poor temper and strode on up an obsidian road which twisted along the hill towards the city.

  Startled by her sudden change, Elric followed. But now his own anger was dissipating. "I'll abide, madam, by your judgement. I am sorry..."

  She was not listening to him. Moment by moment the city came closer until soon they were overshadowed by it, looking up at walls and domes and towers whose size was so tremendous it was almost impossible to guess at their true extent.

  "There's a gate," she said. "There! Go through and I'll say farewell. I'll try to save the child myself and you can give yourself up to lost beliefs and so lose the beliefs you currently hold!"

  And now Elric looked closer at the walls, which were like jade, and he saw dark shapes within the walls and he saw that the dark shapes were the figures of men, women and children. He gasped as he stepped forward to peer at them, observing living faces, eyes which were undying, lips frozen in expressions of terror, of anguish, of misery. They were like so many flies in amber.

  "That's the unchanging past, Prince Elric," said Gone. "That's the fate of those who seek to reclaim their lost beliefs without first experiencing the search for new ones. This city has another name. Dreamthieves call it the City of Inventive Cowardice. You would not understand the twists of logic which brought so many to this pass! Which made them force those they loved to share their fate. Would you stay with them, Prince Elric, and nurse your lost beliefs?"

  The albino turned away with a shudder. "But if they could see what had happened to earlier travellers, why did they continue into the city?"

  "They blinded themselves to the obvious. That is the great triumph of mindless need over intelligence and the human spirit."

  Together the two returned to the path below the city and Elric was relieved when the beautiful towers were far behind and they had passed through several more great caverns, each with its own city, though none as magnificent as the first. These he had felt no desire to visit, though he had detected movement in some and Oone had said she suspected not all were as dangerous as the City of Inventive Cowardice.

  "You called this world the Dream Realm," he said, "and indeed it's well-named, madam, for it seems to contain a catalogue of dreams, and not a few nightmares. It's almost as if the place were born of a poet's brain, so strange are some of the sights."

  "I told you," she said, speaking more warmly now that he had acknowledged the danger, "much of what you witness here is the semi-formed stuff of realities that other worlds, such as yours and mine, are yet to witness. To what extent they will come to exist elsewhere I do not know. These places have been fashioned over centuries by a succession of dreamthieves, imposing form on what is otherwise formless."

  Elric was now beginning to understand better what he had been told by Oone. "Rather than making a map of what exists, you impose your own map upon it!"

  "To a degree. We do not invent. We merely describe in a particular way. By that means we can make pathways through each of the myriad Dream Realms, for, in this alone, the realms comply one with the other."

  "In reality there could be a thousand different lands in each realm?"

  "If you would see it so. Or an infinity of lands. Or one with an infinity of aspects. Roads are made so that the traveller without a compass may not wander too far from their destination." She laughed almost gaily. "The fanciful names we give these places are not from any poetical impulse, nor from whim, but from a certain necessity. Our survival depe
nds on accurate descriptions!"

  "Your words have a profundity to them, madam. Though my survival has also tended to depend on a good, sharp blade!"

  "While you depend upon your blade, Prince Elric, you condemn yourself to a singular fate."

  "You predict my death, eh, madam?"

  Oone shook her head, her beautiful lips forming an expression of utmost sympathy and tenderness. "Death is inevitable to almost all of us, in some shape or another. And I'll admit, if Chaos ever conquered Chaos, then you will be the instrument of that remarkable conquest. It would be sad, indeed, Prince Elric, if in taming Chaos you destroyed yourself and all you loved into the bargain!"

  "I promise you, Lady Gone, to do my best to avoid such a fate." And Elric wondered at the look in the dreamthief's eyes and then chose not to speculate further.

  They walked through a forest of stalagmites and stalactites now, all of the same glowing colours, dark greens and dark blues and rich reds, and there was a musical sound as water splashed from roof to floor. Every so often a huge drop would fall on one or the other of them but such was the nature of the caverns that they were soon dry again. They had begun to relax and walked arm in arm, almost merry, and it was only then that they saw the figures flitting between the upward-thrusting fangs of rock.

  "Swordsmen," murmured Elric. He added ironically, "This is when a weapon would be useful..." His mind was half with the situation, half feeling its way out through the worlds of the elementals, seeking some kind of spell, some supernatural aid, but he was baffled. It seemed that the mental paths he was used to following were blocked to him.

  The warriors were veiled. They were dressed in heavy flowing cloaks and their heads were protected by helms of metal and leather. Elric had the impression of cold, hard eyes with tattooed lids and knew at once that these were members of the Sorcerer Assassin guild from Quarzhasaat, left behind when their fellows had retreated from the Dream Realms. Doubtless they were trapped here. It was clear, however, that they did not intend to parley with Elric and Gone, but were closing in, following a familiar pattern of attack.