The Complete Dilvish, The Damned

by Roger Zelazny

  Baran lowered his hand slowly, then raised it to his mouth as he began to cough again. Damned wight! Who had summoned it, anyway? Could it possibly be that Jelerak had returned?

  He moved away from the balustrade and headed for the stair.

  When he reached the bottom he investigated the corner. In the dust he found the imprint of a cloven hoof.

  Holrun cursed and turned onto his stomach, drawing the pillow over his head and pressing down hard upon it.

  "No!" he cried. "No! I'm not here! Go away!"

  He lay still for a rapid succession of pulsebeats. Then, gradually, the tension went out of him. His hand fell from the pillow. His breathing grew regular.

  Abruptly, his form stiffened again.

  "No!" he shrieked. "I'm just a poor little sorcerer trying to get some sleep! Leave me alone, damn it!"

  This was followed by a growling noise and a clicking of teeth. Finally, his left hand shot forward and drew upon an ivory inlaid drawer set into the head of the bed. It entered, groped a moment, and withdrew carrying a small crystal.

  He rolled onto his back, propped the pillow, and squirmed into a semi-upright position. He balanced the shining ball on his abdomen and looked down at it through half-open, sleep-swollen eyes. It took a long while for the image to form within it.

  "Make it good," he mumbled. "Make it worth the risk of transformation into a lower life form with a loathsome disease, itching piles, and Saint Vitus' dance. Make it worth the demon-tormentors, the plague of locusts, and the salt in the wounds. Make it—"

  "Holrun," said Meliash, "it's important."

  "It better be. I'm tireder than the king's whore come the revolution. What do you want?"

  "It's gone."

  "Good. Who needed it, anyway?"

  He moved his hand, preparatory to breaking the connection, paused.

  "What's gone?" he inquired.

  "The castle."

  "The castle? The whole damned castle?"

  "Yes."

  He was silent a moment. Then he raised himself further upright, rubbed his eyes, brushed back his hair.

  "Tell me about it," he said then, "preferably in simple terms."

  "The changing land stopped changing for a time. Then it started in again, wilder than I'd ever seen it before. I got to a good vantage point to watch. After a while, it stopped again. The castle was gone. Everything is still now, and the hilltop is empty. I don't know what happened. I don't know how it happened. That's all."

  "Do you think Jel—he was able to move it? If so, why? Or maybe the Old One?"

  Meliash shook his head.

  "I've been talking with Rawk again. He's turned up more material. There is an old tradition that the place is timeless, was just sort of anchored to time and carried along with it. If that anchor were somehow lifted, it would drift away on the river of eternity."

  "Poetic as all hell, but what does it mean?"

  "I don't know."

  "Do you think that's what happened?''

  "I don't know. Maybe."

  "Shit!"

  Holrun massaged his temples, sighed, picked up the crystal, swung his legs over the bed's edge.

  "All right," he said. "All right. I have to look into it. I've come this far. I've got to wash up, though, and eat something first. You've spoken with the other wardens?"

  "Yes. They've nothing to add to what I saw."

  "Okay. Keep the place under surveillance. Call me immediately if anything new develops."

  "Certainly. Are you going to notify the Council?"

  Holrun made a face and broke the connection, wondering whether the Council could be unanchored and set adrift in eternity.

  Vane had ceased his sobbing, and for a long while he sat deep in thought, no longer looking at Galt, staring instead at the brightness-dimness sequence in the sky beyond the window. Finally, he stirred.

  He lowered Galt's head gently to the floor, then got to his feet. Stooping, he raised his companion's still form into a position across his shoulders.

  He moved forward, coming out of the alcove, looked to the right, winced, turned left. Slowly, he advanced along the gallery until he came to a low stair leading upward to his left. Spying a short corridor with several open doors above it, he mounted there.

  Moving more slowly, more cautiously, he inspected the rooms. None was occupied. The second and third were bedchambers, the first a sitting room.

  He entered the third and, stooping, drew back the coverlet with one hand. He deposited Galt upon the bed and arranged his limbs. He leaned forward and kissed him, then covered him over.

  Turning away, he departed the room without looking back, drawing the door closed behind him.

  Moving to the right, he came to the end of the corridor, where a low archway opened to the right upon a narrow stair leading downward.

  He descended, to find himself in a formal dining room, with four places set at one end of a long table. A basket of bread stood at the head. He seized it and began eating. On a tray beneath a napkin was some sliced meat. He commenced wolfing this down also. An earthen crock nearby contained some red wine, which he drank straight from the pot. Maneuvering about the table as he fed himself, he turned gradually to face back in the direction from which he had come.

  The stairway had vanished. The wall was now solid at the point where he had made his entrance. Still chewing vigorously, he crossed over and tapped upon it. It did not sound hollow. He shuddered as he drew back from it. This place…

  He turned and fled out the double doors at the room's farther end. The hallway was wide, as was the descending stair to which it led. It was decorated with silks and steel, and partly carpeted in green. He reached for the most useful-seeming blade that hung upon the wall—a short, somewhat heavy, double -edged weapon with a simple hilt. As he took it into his hands and turned away to get the feeling of it in motion, he saw that the doors through which he had just departed the dining room had disappeared, to be replaced by a window through which a gentle, pearly light now entered.

  He retraced his steps and peered through the panes. A range of mountains was sinking in a place where there had been no mountains before. The sky was now a uniform dead white in color, with neither sun nor stars, as if varying values of illumination had been averaged out above him. A silvery substance rushed forward, halted, moved again. It took some time for him to realize that it was water, creeping nearer. He pulled himself away from the window and headed for the stair.

  He fought back the panic which had taken hold of him, replacing it with the hatred he felt for the castle and everything in it. When he reached the foot of the stair, he moved through an anteroom elaborately decorated in a style he did not recognize, though he prided himself upon knowledge of such matters. He halted then upon the threshold to the main hall.

  This room also was unoccupied. He was familiar with it from having been brought in this way when captured by the castle's slaves on the slopes below. He and Galt had been dragged before the steward, Baran, routinely abused, and incarcerated below. His hand tightened upon the haft of the weapon as he recalled that day. He moved then, striding across the hall past the great doors, heading toward the sitting room with its smaller entrance to the outside world.

  As he neared it he slowed, puzzled. The tall wooden thing with the circular face surrounded by numerals was making a shrill, whining sound. Approaching to study it, he saw that a round, vibrating area existed immediately above the face. He could not determine its character or cause, though it did not seem threatening. He decided against tampering with unknown magics and passed it by, entering the sitting room.

  Crossing quickly to the door, he placed his hand upon it, then hesitated. Peculiar things were happening outside. But then, the same might be said for inside also.

  He operated the latch and opened the door.

  A shrieking, as of some mighty wind, came to his ears. There was water for as far as he could see in every direction of which he commanded a view. Yet the waves and ri
pples normally present in a large body of water were not distinct here. Perhaps it was the mist of fine spray which seemed to hover above it all…

  He extended his blade forward, out into the moist haze. An instant later, he jerked it tack.

  Its tip had entirely rusted away. When he touched the oxidized fringe that still clung to the metal, it turned to powder beneath his finger and fell free. The screeching continued, deafening. The sky was still an unbroken, nacreous expanse.

  He closed the door and latched it, stood with his back against it. He began to tremble.

  Having packed the jewels and garments in which she had been buried into a small parcel that now resided beneath the bed, Semirama paced her room deciding whether anything else would be worth taking. Cosmetics?

  There came a knock upon the door. She was near. She opened it herself.

  Jelerak smiled at her.

  "Oh!"

  She reddened.

  "I am going to have need of your linguistic abilities," he stated.

  A pair of rose-tinted goggles hung about his neck. The butt of a scarlet wand protruded from a long, narrow sheath at his belt. He bowed, gesturing toward her left, down the hallway.

  "Please come with me."

  "Yes—Of course."

  She stepped out, began walking alongside him in that direction. She glanced out the window at a pearly sky above an interminable sea.

  "Something is the matter?" she asked finally.

  "Yes. There was—interference," he replied.

  Abruptly, a rushing sound passed overhead, like a clacking of hoofs.

  "A huge, dark-haired man. interrupted me in the midst of my work," he explained.

  "Was that what caused the—spasm? And all these effects?"

  He shook his head.

  "No, someone has released the maintenance spell and we are no longer a part of the normal flow of time."

  "Do you think Tualua did it? Or the stranger?"

  He paused to look out another window. The sea had almost completely receded, and now mountain ranges reared themselves even as he watched.

  "I do not believe that Tualua was in any condition to do that. And I think the stranger was as surprised by it as I was. But I had a glimpse of the stranger's spirit before I lost consciousness. He was something elemental, demonic, which had only taken human form for a time. This was why I fled as soon as I recovered—to obtain certain tools I had cached." He ran his thumb across the top of the wand. "This is my weapon for dealing with beings such as that. You've seen such before, I'm sure, long ago—"

  She gasped. The entire sky flamed a brilliant crimson, became a blinding white. She shielded her eyes and looked away, but it was already dimming.

  "What—what was that?"

  Jelerak lowered his own hand from his eyes.

  "Probably the end of the world," he said.

  They watched as the sky continued to dim, until it became a smoky, yellowish color. This persisted. Finally, Jelerak turned away.

  "At any rate," he went on, "that one has probably removed my original means of accomplishing Tualua's pacification. So"—he touched the goggles— "these. There was a time when I could have charmed him with my eyes and voice alone, but now I have need to augment my gaze. You must call him, get him to raise himself, so that for a moment we look at one another."

  "What then?"

  "I must restore the maintenance spell."

  "What of whoever broke it?"

  "I must regain full force next, find that person, and deal with him."

  He began walking again. She fell into step beside him.

  "We're really trapped, then," she said. "Even if you do these things, where will it leave us?"

  He laughed harshly.

  "Even knowledge may have its limits," he said. "On the other hand, I believe that ingenuity is boundless. We shall see."

  They walked on, took a stair, took a turn.

  "Jelerak," she said, "where did this place come from?"

  "We may find that out, too," he replied. "I do not know for certain, though I am beginning to believe that it is—somehow—alive."

  She nodded.

  "I've had a few peculiar feelings myself. If this is the case, whose side might it be on?"

  "Its own, I think."

  "It's powerful, isn't it?"

  "Look out any window. Yes, there are too many powerful things at work here. I don't like it. I once had my will subjugated to a greater force—"

  "I know."

  "—and I will not permit it to occur again. It would be the end of both of us—and of many other things."

  "I do not understand."

  "If my will is broken, your flesh will return to the dust from which I raised it—and other things which depend upon me will fail."

  She took his arm.

  "You must be careful."

  He laughed again.

  "The battle is barely begun."

  Her grip tightened upon his arm.

  "But the trip may be ending. Look!"

  She pointed ahead to a window through which a very pale sun-arch had appeared in a twilit sky.

  She felt him stiffen. "Hurry!" he said.

  At the next turning she glanced back and saw only a blank wall behind them.

  Chapter 10

  As Dilvish edged along the northeast periphery of the room, the tableau became clearer—the upset brazier, the dark design, the groping tentacle, the half-stripped girl upon the barrow, the faintly glowing prints of cloven hoofs…

  He sheathed his blade as quietly as he could, feeling that it would be of little use against the possessor of such a member. Better to have both hands free, he decided as he moved forward quickly to take hold of the barrow's handles. The tip of the tentacle found the wheel at about the same time. He raised the barrow and drew it back. The tentacle slipped away. There came a thrashing in the waters below. He continued to back off.

  Suddenly, a tentacle shot up to twice his height above the lip of the pit. Dilvish veered sharply to his left as he backed away. The tentacle fell with a great slapping sound upon the place he would have occupied had he continued in a straight line. It began to toss wildly about. He was soon out of range, however, and near the opening of the eastern passageway. He turned the wheelbarrow and headed up it. The splashing noises continued behind him.

  It was only as he hurried away that he really had an opportunity to look at the barrow's occupant. He drew in his breath sharply and halted, lowering the conveyance, moving around to its front. Arlata's chest still rose and fell slowly. He closed her tunic, examined her face.

  "Arlata?"

  She did not stir. He repeated her name in a louder voice. There was no reaction. He slapped her lightly. Her head rolled to the side and remained there.

  He returned to the vehicle's rear and began pushing again. The first room he came to was a storeroom full of tools. He went on, inspecting several others. The fourth was a linen room, heaped with folded curtains, blankets, coverlets, rugs, towels. A flash of red came and went behind its solitary small window as he pushed Arlata in and unfastened her bonds. He transferred her then to a pile of linens and unfolded a blanket to cover her.

  Closing the door behind him, he turned up the hallway and stared. It became better illuminated before his eyes, all of the brightness emanating from just a few small windows. And in this increased light he saw again the cloven hoofmarks. He began to follow them and continued until his path intersected a carpeted hallway, where they vanished. For a moment he stood undecided. Then, shrugging, he turned to the left. The way seemed long and straight and bright before him, but then a peculiar thing occurred. The air shimmered, then darkened, about six paces ahead of him. A smoky coalescence followed. Suddenly, he faced a stone wall.

  He laughed.

  "All right," he said.

  He did an about-face, then headed up the remaining branch of the hallway, checking as he moved whether his blade was loose in its sheath.

  Odil, Hodgson, and Derkon glutt
ed themselves in the pantry they had located.

  "What the hell is that?" Derkon asked, pointing with a leg of mutton at the small skylight which was suddenly a blazing, brilliant red.

  The others looked, then looked away as the red faded and the brightening continued.

  "Are we on fire?" Odil wondered; and it ceased then and the dimness followed.

  "More general, I think," Hodgson replied.

  "I don't understand," said Odil.

  "Everything outside seems to be happening countless times faster than it normally does."

  "And we did it somehow—when we broke the maintenance spell?"

  "I'd say."

  "I thought it would just knock down a wall, or something like that."

  Derkon laughed.

  "But it would probably kill us to leave the place now! Strand us in a wasteland, deliver us to monsters—or worse…"

  Derkon laughed again, tossed him a bottle.

  "Here. You need a drink. You're beginning to get the picture."

  Odil unstopped it and downed a mouthful.

  Then, "What are we to do?" he asked. "If we can't get out of here—"

  "Exactly. What's the alternative? Do you recall our original intention?"

  Odil, who had been raising the bottle for another swallow, lowered it, eyes widening.

  "Go to that thing and try to bind it? Just the three of us? The shape we're in?"

  Hodgson nodded.

  "Unless we can bring Vane to his senses—or locate Dilvish—it's just the three of us."

  "What good will it do us now, even if we succeed?"

  Hodgson dropped his eyes. Derkon made a growling sound.

  "Maybe none at all," Derkon said. "But the Old One is the only thing in sight with the sort of power that might be able to reverse what is going on—to take us back."

  "How will we do it?"

  Derkon shrugged and looked at Hodgson as if for advice. When it was not forthcoming, he said, "Well, I was thinking that a modification—and combination—of several of the strongest binding spells I know—"

  "They're for demons, aren't they?" Odil inquired. "That thing is no demon."