The History of the Runestaff

by Michael Moorcock

  "By the Runestaff, D'Averc," he gasped. "They seem possessed!"

  A knot of battling men suddenly pressed against the door, pushing it inwards and Hawkmoon found himself in the middle of them. He pushed them back, sprang aside. None attacked him or D'Averc. They continued to butcher one another as if unaware of the spectators.

  "This way," Hawkmoon said, and left the room, sword in hand. He coughed as the blue smoke entered his lungs and stung his eyes. Everywhere was ruin.

  Corpses lay thick in the corridor.

  Together they struggled along the passages until they reached Zhenak-Teng's apartments. The door was locked. Frantically, Hawkmoon beat upon it with the pommel of his blade.

  "Zhenak-Teng, it is Hawkmoon and D'Averc! Are you within?"

  There was a movement from the other side of the door, then it sprang open and Zhenak-Teng, his eyes wild with terror, beckoned them in, then hastily closed and locked the door again.

  "The Charki," he said. "There must have been another pack roaming elsewhere. I have failed in my duty.

  They took us by surprise. We are doomed."

  "I see no monsters," D'Averc said. "Your kinsmen fight among themselves."

  "Aye—that's the Charki's way of defeating us. They emit waves—mental rays of some description—that turn us mad, make us see enemies in our closest friends and brothers. And while we fight, they enter our Kampp. They will soon be here!"

  "The blue smoke—what is that?" D'Averc asked.

  "Nothing to do with the Charki. It comes from our smashed generators. We have no power now, even if we could rally."

  From somewhere above came terrible thumps and crashes that shook the room.

  "The Charki," murmured Zhenak-Teng. "Soon their rays will reach me, even me ..."

  "Why have they not reached you already?" Hawkmoon demanded.

  "Some of us are more able to resist them. You, plainly, do not suffer from them at all. Others are quickly overcome."

  "Can we not escape?" Hawkmoon glanced about the room. "The Sphere we came in ... ?"

  "Too late, too late ..."

  D'Averc grasped Zhenak-Teng by the shoulder.

  "Come man, we can escape if we're quick. You can drive the sphere!"

  "I must die with my family—the family I helped destroy." Zhenak-Teng was barely recognisable as the self-contained, civilised man they had spoken to the day before. All the spirit had left him. Already his eyes were glazed and it seemed to Hawkmoon that soon the man would succumb to the strange power of the Charki.

  He came to a decision, raised his sword and struck swiftly. The pommel connected with the base of Zhenak-Teng's skull and he collapsed.

  "Now, D'Averc," Hawkmoon said grimly. "Let's get him to the sphere. Hurry!"

  Coughing as the blue smoke grew thicker, they stumbled from the room and into the passages, carrying Zhenak-Teng's unconscious body between them.

  Hawkmoon remembered the way to the place where they had left the sphere and directed D'Averc.

  Now the whole passage shook alarmingly until they were forced to stop to keep their balance. Then ...

  "The wall! It's crumbling!" howled D'Averc, staggering back. "Quickly, Hawkmoon—the other way!"

  "We must get to the sphere!" Hawkmoon called back.

  "We must go on!"

  Now pieces of the ceiling began to fall and a grey, stonelike creature crept through the crack in the wall and into the passage. On the end of the creature was what resembled a sucker such as an octopus would possess, moving like a mouth seeking to kiss them.

  Hawkmoon shuddered in horror and stabbed at the thing with his sword. It recoiled; then, pouting a little, as if only a trifle offended by his gesture and willing to make friends, it advanced again.

  This time Hawkmoon chopped at it and there was a grunt and a shrill hiss from the other side of the room.

  The creature seemed surprised that something was resisting it. Heaving Zhenak-Teng onto his shoulder, Hawkmoon struck another blow at the tentacle, then leapt over it and began to race down the crumbling passage.

  "Come on, D'Averc! To the sphere!"

  D'Averc skipped over the wounded tentacle and followed. Now the wall gave way altogether, and it revealed a mass of waving arms, a pulsing head and a face that was a parody of human features, grinning a placatory, idiot's grin.

  "It wants us to pet it!" D'Averc cried with grim humor as he avoided a reaching tentacle. "Would you hurt its feelings so, Hawkmoon?"

  Hawkmoon was busily opening the door that led to the chamber of the sphere. Zhenak-Teng, who lay on the floor near him, was beginning to moan and clutch his head.

  Hawkmoon got the door open, hefted Zhenak-Teng onto his shoulder again, and passed through into the chamber where the sphere lay.

  No noise came from it now and its colours were muted, but it was opened sufficient to admit them.

  Hawkmoon climbed the ladder and dumped Zhenak-Teng in the control seat as D'Averc joined him.

  "Get this thing moving," he told Zhenak-Teng, "or we'll all be devoured by the Charki you see there . . ."

  He pointed with his sword to the giant thing that was squeezing its way through the door of the chamber.

  Several tentacles crept up the sides of the sphere towards them. One touched Zhenak-Teng lightly on the shoulder and he moaned. Hawkmoon yelled and chopped at it. It flopped to the floor. But others were now waving all around him and had fastened on the bronzed man who seemed to accept the touch with complete passivity. Hawkmoon and D'Averc screamed at him to get the sphere moving while they hacked desperately at the dozens of waving limbs.

  Hawkmoon reached out with his left hand to grasp the back of Zhenak-Teng's neck. "Close the sphere, Zhenak-Teng! Close the sphere."

  With a jerky movement, Zhenak-Teng obeyed, depressing a stud which made the sphere murmur and hum and begin to glow with all kinds of colours.

  The tentacles tried to resist the steady motion of the walls as the aperture closed. Three leapt through D'Averc's defense and fastened themselves on Zhenak-Teng who groaned and went limp. Again Hawkmoon slashed at the tentacles as the sphere finally closed and began to rise upwards.

  One by one the tentacles disappeared as the sphere rose and Hawkmoon sighed in relief. He turned to the bronzed man. "We are free!"

  But Zhenak-Teng stared dully ahead of him, his arms limp at his sides.

  "It is no good," he said slowly. "It has taken my life . . ." And he slumped to one side, falling to the floor.

  Hawkmoon bent beside him, putting his hand to the man's chest to feel his heartbeat. He shuddered in horror.

  "He's cold, D'Averc—incredibly cold!"

  "And does he live?" the Frenchman asked.

  Hawkmoon shook his head. "He is entirely dead."

  The sphere was still rising rapidly and Hawkmoon sprang to the controls, looking at them in despair, not knowing one instrument from another, not daring to touch anything lest they descend again to where the Charki feasted on the life energy of the people of Teng-Kampp.

  Suddenly they were in the open air and bounding over the turf. Hawkmoon seated himself in the control seat and took the lever as he had seen Zhenak-Teng take it the day before. Gingerly he pushed it to one side, and had the satisfaction of seeing the sphere begin to roll in that direction.

  "I think I can steer it," he told his friend. "But how one stops it or opens it, that I cannot guess!"

  "As long as we are leaving those monsters behind, I am not entirely depressed," D'Averc said with a smile.

  "Turn the thing to the south, Hawkmoon. At least we will be going in the direction we intended."

  Hawkmoon did as D'Averc suggested and for hours they rolled over the flat plain until, at length, a forest came in sight.

  "It will be interesting," said D'Averc, when Hawkmoon pointed out the trees to him, "to see how the sphere behaves when it reaches the trees. It was plainly not designed for such terrain."

  Chapter Three - THE SAYOU RIVER

  THE SPHERE ST
RUCK the trees with a great sound of snapping wood and tortured metal.

  D'Averc and Hawkmoon found themselves flung to the far side of the control chamber, keeping company with the unpleasantly cold corpse of Zhenak-Teng.

  Next they were flung upwards, then sideways, and had not the walls of the sphere been well padded, they would have died of broken bones.

  At last the sphere rolled to a halt, rocked for a few moments, then suddenly split apart, tumbling Hawkmoon and D'Averc to the ground.

  D'Averc groaned. "What an unnecessary experience for one as weak as myself."

  Hawkmoon grinned, partly at his friend's drollery, partly in relief.

  "Well," he said, "we have escaped more easily than I'd dared hope. Rise up, D'Averc, we must strike on—strike for the South!"

  "I think a rest is called for," D'Averc said, stretching and looking up at the green branches of the trees. Sun slanted through them, turning the forest to emerald and gold. There was the sharp scent of pine and the earthier scent of the birch and from a branch above them a squirrel looked down, its bright black eyes sardonic.

  Behind them the wreckage of the sphere lay amongst tangled roots and branches. Several small trees had been torn up and others snapped. Hawkmoon realised that their escape had been very lucky indeed. He began to shake, now, with reaction, and understood the sense of D'Averc's words. He sat down on a grassy hill-ock, averting his eyes from the wreck and the corpse of Zhenak-Teng that could just be seen to one side of the sphere.

  D'Averc lay down nearby and rolled over onto his back. From within his tattered jerkin he drew a tightly wadded piece of parchment, the map that Zhenak-Teng had given him shortly before they retired the night before.

  D'Averc opened the parchment and studied it. It showed the plain in considerable detail, marked the various Kampps of Zhenak-Teng's people and what appeared to be the hunting trails of the Charki. Against most of the sites of the underground dwellings were crosses, presumably showing which the Charki had destroyed.

  He pointed to a spot near the corner of the map.

  "Here," he said. "Here's the forest—and just to the north here is marked a river—the Sayou. This arrow points south to Narleen. From what I can gather, the river will lead us to the city."

  Hawkmoon nodded. "Then let's head for the river when we're recovered. The sooner we reach Narleen, the better—for there at least we may discover where we are in space and time. It was unlucky that the Charki should have attacked when they did. By questioning Zhenak-Teng longer, we might have been able to learn from him where we were."

  They slept in the peace of the forest for an hour or more, then rose up, adjusted their worn gear and ragged clothes, and set off towards the north and the river.

  As they progressed, the undergrowth grew thicker and the trees more dense, and the hills on which the trees clung became steeper, so that by evening they were weary and in ill-temper, barely speaking to one another.

  Hawkmoon sorted through the few objects in the purse on his belt, found a tinder box of ornate design.

  They walked on for another half-hour until they came to a stream that fed a pool set between high banks on three sides. Beside this was a small clearing and Hawkmoon said: "We'll spend the night here, D'Averc, for I cannot continue any longer."

  D'Averc nodded and flung himself down beside the pool, drinking greedily the clear water. "It looks deep," he said, rising and wiping his lips.

  Hawkmoon was building a fire and did not reply.

  Soon he had a good blaze going.

  "We should, perhaps, hunt for game," D'Averc said lazily. "I am becoming hungry. Do you know anything of forest lore, Hawkmoon?"

  "Some," said Hawkmoon, "but I am not hungry, D'Averc."

  And with that he lay down and went to sleep.

  It was night, it was cold, and Hawkmoon was suddenly awakened by a terrified yell from Ms friend.

  He was up instantly, staring in the direction D'Averc pointed, sword leaping from his scabbard. He gasped in horror at what he saw.

  Rising from the waters of the pool, water rushing from its huge sides, was a reptilian creature with blazing eyes and scales as black as the night. Only its mouth, which now gaped wide, contained the white-ness of pointed teeth. With a great slopping sound it was heaving itself through the water toward them.

  Hawkmoon staggered back, feeling dwarfed by the monster. Its head darted down and forward, its jaws snapping inches from his face, its loathsome breath almost asphyxiating him.

  "Run, Hawkmoon, run!" yelled D'Averc, and together they began to stumble back into the woods.

  But the creature was out of the water now and giving chase. From its throat came a terrible croaking noise that seemed to fill the forest. Hawkmoon and D'Averc clutched at one another's hands to keep together as they stumbled through the undergrowth, almost blind in the blackness of the night.

  Again the croaking noise and this tune a long, soft tongue whistled like a whip through the air and encircled D'Averc's waist.

  D'Averc screamed. He slashed at the tongue with his blade. Hawkmoon yelled and sprang forward, stabbing out at the black thing with all his might, while hanging to D'Averc's hand and holding his ground as best he could.

  Inexorably, the tongue drew them towards the gaping mouth of the water-beast. Hawkmoon could see that it was hopeless to try to save D'Averc in this way.

  He let go of D'Averc's hand and leapt to one side, slashing at the thick, black tongue.

  Then he took his sword in both hands, raised it above his head and chopped down with all his strength.

  The beast croaked again and the ground shook, but the tongue parted slowly and foul blood gushed from it. Then there came a hideous cry and the trees began to part and snap as the water-thing lumbered at them.

  Hawkmoon grabbed D'Averc and hauled him to his feet, pushing aside the sticky flesh of the severed tongue.

  "Thanks," D'Averc panted as they ran. "I'm beginning to dislike this land, Hawkmoon—it seems more full of perils than our own!"

  Crunching and croaking and crying out with in-sensate rage, the thing from the pool pursued them.

  "It's nearly on us again!" shouted Hawkmoon. "We can't escape it!"

  They turned, peering through the blackness. All they could see now were the two blazing black eyes of the creature. Hawkmoon hefted his sword in his hand, getting its balance. "There's only one chance," he called, and flung his sword straight at the malevolent orbs.

  There was another croaking scream and a great threshing sound amongst the trees, then the blazing orbs disappeared and they heard the beast crashing away, back to the pool.

  Hawkmoon gasped with relief. "I didn't kill it, but it doubtless decided we were not the easy prey it originally took us for. Come, D'Averc, let's get to that river as soon as we can. I want to leave this forest behind!"

  "And what makes you think the river is any less perilous?" D'Averc asked him sardonically as they began to move through the forest again, taking their direction from the side of the trees on which moss grew.

  Two days later they broke out of the forest and stood on the sides of a hill that went steeply down to a valley through which a broad river flowed. It was without doubt the River Sayou.

  They were covered in filth, unshaven, their clothes ragged to the point of disintegration. Hawkmoon had only a dagger for a weapon, and D'Averc, at last rid of his torn jerkin, was naked to the waist.

  They ran down the hill, stumbling over roots, struck by branches, careless of any discomfort in their haste to reach the river.

  Where the river would take them, they knew not.

  They wished only to leave the forest and its dangers.

  Though they had encountered nothing as dreadful as the creature from the pool, they had seen other monsters from a distance, discovered the spoor of more.

  They flung themselves into the water and began to wash the mud and filth from their bodies, grinning at one another.

  "Ah, sweet water!" exclaimed D'Averc. "Y
ou lead to towns and cities and civilisation. I care not what that civilisation offers us—it will be more familiar and even more welcome than the worst this dirty natural place presents to us!"

  Hawkmoon smiled, not entirely sharing D'Averc's sentiments, but understanding his feelings.

  "We'll build a raft," he said. "We're lucky that the current flows south. All we need do, D'Averc, is let the current bear us to our goal!"

  "And you can fish, Hawkmoon—get us tasty meals.

  I'm not used to the simple fare we've lived on the past two days—berries and roots, ugh!"

  "I'll teach you how to fish, too, D'Averc. The experience might be useful to you if you find yourself in a similar situation in the future!" And Hawkmoon laughed, slapping his friend on the back.

  Chapter Four - VALJON OF STARVEL

  FOUR DAYS LATER the raft had borne them many miles down the great river. Forests no longer lined the banks, but instead there were gentle hills and seas of wild corn on both sides of them.

  Hawkmoon and D'Averc lived off the fat fish they caught in the river, together with corn and fruit found on the banks, and they became more relaxed as the raft drifted on toward Narleen.

  They had the appearance of shipwrecked sailors, with their ragged clothes and beards that grew thicker daily, but their eyes no longer had the wild look of hunger and exposure and they were in better spirits than they had been.

  It was late in the afternoon of the fourth day that they saw the ship coming up behind them and leapt to their feet, waving to attract its attention.

  "Perhaps the ship is from Narleen!" cried Hawkmoon. "Perhaps they'll let us work a passage to the city!"

  The ship was high-prowed, made of wood painted with rich colours. Principally it was red, with gold, yellow and blue scroll-work along its sides. Although rigged like a two-masted schooner it also possessed oars which were now being used to propel it toward them.

  It flew a hundred brightly colored flags and the men on its decks wore clothes to match.

  The ship struck her oars and pulled alongside. A heavily bearded face peered down at them. "Who are you?"