The Bane of the Black Sword (elric saga)

by Michael Moorcock

  A twisted face peered down from the battlements, "Enter strangers and be welcome," it said unwelcomingly.

  The heavy wooden drawgate shifted upwards to allow them entrance and the horses pushed their way slowly through the mud and so into the courtyard of the citadel.

  Overhead, the grey sky was a racing field of black tattered clouds which streamed towards the horizon as if to escape the horrid boundaries of Org and the disgusting Forest of Troos.

  The courtyard was covered, though not so deeply, with the same foul mud as had unpaired their progress to the citadel. It was full of heavy, unmoving shadow. On Elric's right, a flight of steps went up to an arched entrance which was hung, partially, with the same unhealthy lichen he had seen on the outer walls and, also, in the Forest of Troos.

  Through this archway, brushing at the lichen with a pale, beringed hand, a tall man came and stood on the top step, regarding the visitors through heavy-lidded eyes. He was, in contrast to the others, handsome, with a massive, leonine head and long hair as white as Elric's; although the hair on the head of this great, solid man was somewhat dirty, tangled, unbrushed. He was dressed in a heavy jerkin of quilted, embossed leather, a yellow kit which reached to his ankles and he carried a wide bladed dagger, naked in his belt. He was older than Elric, aged between forty and fifty and his powerful if somewhat decadent face was seamed and pock-marked.

  He stared at them in silence and did not welcome them; instead he signed to one of the battlement guards who caused the drawgate to be lowered. It came down with a crash, blocking off their way of escape.

  "Kill the men and keep the woman," said the massive man in a low monotone. Elric had heard dead men speak in that manner.

  As planned, Elric and Moonglum stood either side of Zarozinia and remained where they were, arms folded.

  Puzzled, shambling creatures came warily at them, their loose trousers dragging in the mud, their hands hidden by the long shapeless sleeves of their filthy garments. They swung their cleavers. Elric felt a faint shock as the blade thudded on to his arm, but that was all. Moonglum's experience was similar.

  The men fell back, amazement and confusion on their bestial faces.

  The tall man's eyes widened. He put one ring-covered hand to his thick lips, chewing at a nail.

  "Our swords have no effect upon them, King! They do not cut and they do not bleed. What are these folk?"

  Elric laughed theatrically. "We are not common folk, little human, be assured. We are the messengers of the Gods and come to your King with a message from our great masters. Do not worry, we shall not harm you since we are in no danger of being harmed. Stand aside and make us welcome."

  Elric could see that King Gutheran was puzzled and not absolutely taken in by his words. Elric cursed to himself. He had measured their intelligence by those he had seen. This king, mad or not, was much more intelligent, was going to be harder to deceive. He led the way up the steps towards glowering Gutheran.

  "Greetings, King Gutheran. The Gods have, at last, returned to Org and wish you to know this."

  "Org has had no Gods to worship for an eternity," said Gutheran hollowly, turning back into the citadel. "Why should we accept them now?"

  "You are impertinent, King."

  "And you are audacious. How do I know you come from the Gods?" He walked ahead of them, leading them through the low-roofed halls.

  "You saw that the swords of your subjects had no effect upon us."

  "True. I'll take that incident as proof for the moment. I suppose there must be a banquet in yourhonour-I shall order it. Be welcome, messengers." His words were ungracious but it was virtually impossible to detect anything from Gutheran's tone, since the man's voice stayed at the same pitch.

  Elric pushed his heavy riding cloak back from his shoulders and said lightly: "We shall mention your kindness to our masters."

  The Court was a place of gloomy halls and false laughter and although Elric put many questions to Gutheran, the king would not answer them, or did so by means of ambiguous phrases which meant nothing. They were not given chambers wherein they could refresh themselves but instead stood about for several hours in the main hall of the citadel and Gutheran, while he was with them and not giving orders for the banquet, sat slumped on his throne and chewed at bis nails, ignoring them.

  "Pleasant hospitality," whispered Moonglum.

  "Elric-how long will the effects of the drug last?" Zarozinia had remained close to him. He put his arm around her shoulders. "I do not know. Not much longer. But it has served its purpose. I doubt if they will try to attack us a second time. However, beware of other attempts, subtler ones, upon our lives."

  The main hall, which had a higher roof than the others and was completely surrounded by a gallery which ran around it well above the floor, fairly close to the room, was chilly and unwarmed. No fires burned in the several hearths, which were open and let into the floor, and the walls dripped moisture and were undecorated; damp, solid stone, timeworn and gaunt. There were not even rushes upon the floor which was strewn with old bones and pieces of decaying food.

  "Hardly house-proud, are they?" commented Moonglum looking around him with distaste and glancing at brooding Gutheran who was seemingly oblivious of their presence.

  A servitor shambled into the hall and whispered a few words to the king. He nodded and arose, leaving the Great Hall.

  Soon men came in, carrying benches and tables and began to place them about the hall.

  The banquet was, at last, due to commence. And the air had menace in it.

  The three visitors sat together on the right of the King who had donned a richly jewelled chain of kingship, whilst his son and several pale-faced female members of the Royal line sat on the left, unspeaking even among themselves.

  Prince Hurd, a sullen-faced youth who seemed to bear a resentment against his father, picked at the unappetising food which was served them all.

  He drank heavily of the wine which had little flavour but was strong, fiery stuff and this seemed to warm the company a little.

  "And what do the Gods want of us poor folk of Org?" Hurd said, staring hard at Zarozinia with more than, friendly interest

  Elric answered: "They ask nothing of you but your recognition. In return they will, on occasions, help you."

  "That is all?" Hurd laughed. "That is more than those from the Hill can offer, eh, father?"

  Gutheran turned his great head slowly to regard his son.

  "Yes," he murmured, and the word seemed to carry warning.

  Moonglum said: "The Hill-what is that?"

  He got no reply. Instead a high-pitched laugh came from the entrance to the Great Hall. A thin, gaunt man stood there staring ahead with a fixed gaze. His features, though emaciated, strongly resembled Gutheran's. He carried a stringed instrument and plucked at the gut so that it wailed and moaned with melancholy insistence.

  Kurd said savagely: "Look, father, 'tis blind Veerkad, the minstrel, your brother. Shall he sing for us?" "Sing?"

  "Shall he sing his songs, father"

  Gutheran's mouth trembled and twisted and he said after a moment: "He may entertain our guests with an heroic ballad if he wishes, but..."

  "But certain other songs he shall not sing..." Kurd grinned maliciously. He seemed to be tormenting his father deliberately in some way which Elric could not guess. Kurd shouted at the blind man: "Come Uncle Veerkad-sing! "

  "There are strangers present," said Veerkad hollowly above the wail of his own music. "Strangers in Org"

  Hurd giggled and drank more wine. Gutheran scowled and continued to tremble, gnawing at his nails. Elric called: "We'd appreciate a song, minstrel." "Then you'll have the song of the Three Kings in Darkness, strangers, and hear the ghastly story of the Kings of Org."

  "No! " shouted Gutheran, leaping from his place, but Veerkad was already singing:

  "Three Kings in darkness lie, Gutheran of Org, and I, Under a bleak and sunless skyThe third beneath the Hill When shall the third arise Only wh
en another dies..."

  "Stop! " Gutheran got up in an obviously insane rage and stumbled across the table, trembling in terror, his face blanched, striking at the blind man, his brother. Two blows and the minstrel fell, slumping to the floor and not moving. "Take him out! Do not let him enter again." The king shrieked and foam flecked his lips.

  Hurd, sober for a moment, jumped across the table, scattering dishes and cups and took his father's arm.

  "Be calm, father. I have a new plan for our entertainment."

  "You! You seek my throne. 'Twas you who goaded Veerkad to sing his dreadful song. You know I cannot listen without..." He stared at the door. "One day the legend shall be realised and the Hill-King shall come. Then shall I, you and Org perish."

  "Father," Hurd was smiling horribly, "let the female visitor dance for us a dance of the Gods."

  "What"

  "Let the woman dance for us, father."

  Elric heard him. By now the drug must have worn off. He could not afford to show his hand by offering his companions further doses. He got to his feet.

  "What sacrilege do you speak, Prince"

  "We have given you entertainment. It is the custom in Org for our visitors to give us entertainment also."

  The hall was filled with menace. Elric regretted his plan to trick the men of Org. But there was nothing he could do. He had intended to exact tribute from them in the name of the Gods, but obviously these mad men feared more immediate and tangible dangers than any the Gods might represent.

  He had made a mistake, put the lives of his friends in danger as well as his own. What should he do? Zarozinia murmured: "I have learned dances in Ilmiora where all ladies are taught the art. Let me dance for them. It might placate them and bedazzle them to make our work easier."

  "Arioch knows our work is hard enough now. I was a fool to have conceived this plan. Very well, Zarozinia, dance for them, but with caution." He shouted at Hurd: "Our companion will dance for you, to show you the beauty that the Gods create. Then you must pay the tribute, for our masters grow impatient."

  "The tribute" Gutheran looked up. "You mentioned nothing of tribute."

  "Your recognition of the Gods must take the form of precious stones and metals, King Gutheran. I thought you to understand that." "You seem more like common thieves than uncom mon messengers, my friends. We are poor in Org and have nothing to give away to charlatans."

  "Beware of your words, King! " Elric's clear voice echoed warningly through the hall.

  "We'll see the dance and then judge the truth of what you've told us."

  Elric seated himself, grasped Zarozinia's hand beneath the table as she arose, giving her comfort.

  She walked gracefully and confidently into the centre of the hall and there began to dance. Elric, who loved her, was amazed at her splendid grace and artistry. She danced the old, beautiful dances of Ilmiora, entrancing even the thick-skulled men of Org and, as she danced, a great golden Guest Cup was brought in.

  Kurd leaned across his father and said to Elric: "The Guest Cup, Lord. It is our custom that our guests drink from it in friendship."

  Elric nodded, annoyed at being disturbed in his watching of the wonderful dance, his eyes fixed on Zarozinia as she postured and glided. There was silence in the hall.

  Kurd handed him the cup and absently he put it to his lips, seeing this Zarozinia danced on to the table and began to weave along it to where Elric sat. As he took the first sip, Zarozinia cried out and, with her foot, knocked the cup from his hand. The wine splashed on to Gutheran and Hurd who half rose, startled. "It was drugged, Elric. They drugged it! "

  Hurd lashed at her with his hand, striking her across the face. She fell from the table and lay moaning slightly on the filthy floor. "Bitch! Would the messengers of the Gods be harmed by a little drugged wine"

  Enraged, Elric pushed aside Gutheran and struck savagely at Hurd so that the young man's mouth gushed blood. But the drug was already having effect. Gutheran shouted something and Moonglum drew his sabre, glancing upwards. Elric was swaying, his senses were jumbled and the scene had an unreal quality. He saw servants grasp Zarozinia but could not see how Moonglum was faring. He felt sick and dizzy, could hardly control his limbs.

  Summoning up his last remaining strength, Elric dubbed Hurd down with one tremendous blow. Then he collapsed into unconsciousness.

  THREE

  There was the cold clutch of chains about his wrists and a thin drizzle was falling directly on to his face which stung where Hurd's nails had ripped it

  He looked about him. He was chained between two stone menhirs upon an obvious burial barrow of gigantic size. It was night and a pale moon hovered in the heavens above him. He looked down at the group of men below. Hurd and Gutheran were among them. They grinned at him mockingly.

  "Farewell, messenger. You will serve us a good purpose and placate the Ones from the Hill! " Hurd called as he and the others scurried back towards the citadel which lay, silhouetted, a short distance away.

  Where was he? What had happened to Zarozinia-and Moonglum? Why had he been chained thus upon-realisation and remembrance came-the Hill!

  He shuddered, helpless in the strong chains which held him. Desperately he began to tug at them, but they would not yield. He searched his brain for a plan, but he was confused by torment and worry for his friends' safety. He heard a dreadful scuttling sound from below and saw a ghastly white shape dart into the gloom. Wildly he struggled in the rattling iron which held him,

  In the Great Hall of the citadel, a riotous celebration was now reaching the state of an ecstatic orgy. Gutheran and Hurd were totally drunk, laughing insanely at their victory.

  Outside the Hall, Veerkad listened and hated. Particularly he hated his brother, the man who had deposed and blinded him to prevent his study of sorcery by means of which he had planned to raise the King from Beneath the Hill.

  "The time has come, at last," he whispered to himself and stopped a passing servant.

  "Tell me-where is the girl kept"

  "In Gutheran's chamber, master."

  Veerkad released the man and began to grope his way through the gloomy corridors up twisting steps, until he reached the room he sought. Here he produced a key, one of many he'd had made without Gutheran's knowing, and unlocked the door.

  Zarozinia saw the blind man enter and could do nothing. She was gagged and bound with her own dress and still dazed from the blow Hurd had given her. They had told her of Elric's fate, but Moonglum had so far escaped them, guards hunted him now in the stinking corridors of Org.

  "I've come to take you to your companion, lady," smiled blind Veerkad, grasping her roughly with strength that his insanity had given him, picked her up and fumbled his way towards the door. He knew the passages of Org perfectly, for he had been born and grown up among them.

  But two men were in the corridor outside Gutheran's chambers. One of them was Hurd, Prince of Org, who resented his father's appropriation of the girl and desired her for himself. He saw Veerkad bearing the girl away and stood silent while his uncle passed.

  The other man was Moonglum, who observed what was happening from the shadows where he had hidden from the searching guards. As Hurd followed Veerkad, on cautious feet. Moonglum followed him.

  Veerkad went out of the citadel by a small side door and carried his living burden towards the looming Burial Hill.

  All about the foot of the monstrous barrow swarmed the leprous-white ghouls who sensed the presence of Elric, the folk of Org's sacrifice to them.

  Now Elric understood.

  These were the things that Org feared more than the Gods. These were the living-dead ancestors of those who now revelled in the Great Hall. Perhaps these were actually the Doomed Folk. Was that their doom? Never to rest? Never to die? Just to degenerate into mindless ghouls? Elric shuddered.

  Now desperation brought back his memory. His voice was an agonised wail to the brooding sky and the pulsing earth.

  "Arioch! Destroy the stones. Save y
our servant! Arioch-master-aid me! "

  It was not enough. The ghouls gathered together and began to scuttle, gibbering up the barrow towards the helpless albino.

  "Arioch! These are the things that would forsake your memory! Aid me to destroy them! "

  The earth trembled and the sky became overcast, hiding the moon but not the white-faced, bloodless ghouls who were now almost upon him.

  And then a ball of fire formed in the sky above him and the very sky seemed to shake and sway around it Then, with a roaring crash two bolts of lightning slashed down, pulverising the stones and releasing Elric.

  He got to his feet, knowing that Arioch would demand his price, as the first ghouls reached him.

  He did not retreat, but in his rage and desperation leapt among them, smashing and flailing with the lengths of chain. The ghouls fell back and fled, gibbering in fear and anger, down the hill and into the barrow.

  Elric could now see that there was a gaping entrance to the barrow below him; black against the blackness. Breathing heavily, he found that his belt pouch had been left him. From it he took a length of slim, gold wire and began frantically to pick at the locks of the manacles.

  Veerkad chuckled to himself and Zarozinia hearing him was almost mad with terror. He kept drooling the words into her ear: "When shall the third arise? Only when other dies. When that other's blood flows redwe'll hear the footfalls of the dead. You and I, we shall resurrect him and such vengeance will he wreak upon my cursed brother. Your blood, my dear, it will be that released him." He felt that the ghouls were gone and judged them placated by their feast. "Your lover has been useful to me," he laughed as he began to enter the barrow. The smell of death almost overpowered the girl as the blind madman bore her downwards into the heart of the Hill.

  Hurd, sobered after his walk in the colder air, was horrified when he saw where Veerkad was going; the barrow, the Hill of the King, was the most feared spot in the land of Org. Hurd paused before the black entrance and turned to run. Then, suddenly, he saw the form of Elric, looming huge and bloody, descending the barrow slope, cutting off his escape.