The Chronicles of Castle Brass

by Michael Moorcock

  'You three are welcome to come to Castle Brass with us,' said Hawkmoon to the warriors.

  Emshon of Ariso fiddled with his moustache and looked inquiringly at John ap-Rhyss who looked, in turn, at Brut of Lashmar.

  'Our journey is over,' said Brut.

  'We are but ordinary soldiers,' said John ap-Rhyss. 'No history will count us heroes. I stay in Tanelorn.'

  'I began my life as a teacher in a school,' said Emshon of Ariso. 'It was never my dream to go warring. But there were indignities, inequalities, injustices and it seemed to me that only a sword could correct those things. I did my best. I have earned my peace. I, too, stay in Tanelorn. I would like to write a book, I think.'

  Hawkmoon bowed his head in acknowledgment of their decision. 'I thank you, friends, for your help.'

  'You would not stay with us?' said John ap-Rhyss. 'Have you not also earned the right to dwell here?'

  'Perhaps, but I have a great liking for old Castle Brass, and I have left a friend there. Perhaps we can speak of what we know and show folk how to find Tanelorn within themselves.'

  'Given the chance,' said Orland Fank, 'most find it. Only gods and the worship of fallacy, fear of their own humanity, blocks their path to Tanelorn.'

  'Oh, I fear for my carefully manufactured personality!' laughed Huillam D'Averc. 'Is there anything duller than a reformed cynic?'

  'Let Queen Flana decide that,' grinned Hawkmoon. Well, Orland Fank, we speak much of leaving - but how shall we leave now that there are no supernatural creatures to direct our destinies, now that the Champion is laid, at last, to rest?'

  'I still have a little of my old power left,' said the Orkneyman, almost insulted. 'And it is easily used while the Spheres remain in Conjunction. And since it was partly my doing, and partly the doing of those seven you met in the unformed world of Limbo, it suits me to put you back upon your original journey.’ His red face broke into a smile which was almost merry. 'Goodbye to ye all, Heroes of the Kamarg. Ye go to a world free of all authority. Be sure that the only authority you seek in future is the quiet authority which comes from self-respect.'

  'You were ever a moralist, Orland Fank!' Bowgentle clapped his hand upon the Orkneyman's shoulder. 'But it is an art to make such simple morality work in a complicated world!'

  'It is only the darkness of our own minds which makes for complications,' said Orland Fank. 'Good luck, too!' And he was laughing now, his bonnet bobbing on his head. 'Let us hope this is an end of tragedy.’

  'And the beginning, perhaps, of comedy,' said Huillam D'Averc, smiling and shaking his head. 'Come - Count Brass awaits us!'

  And they stood upon the Silver Bridge amongst the other travellers who moved to and fro upon that mighty highway, and the bright, winter sunshine shone down on them, making the sea sparkle with reflected silver.

  ‘The world!' cried Huillam D'Averc in considerable relish. 'At last, at last, the world!'

  Hawkmoon found D'Averc's joy infectious. 'Where do you go? To Londra or the Kamarg?'

  ‘To Londra, of course, at once!' said D'Averc. 'After all, a kingdom awaits me.'

  'You were never a cynic, Huillam D'Averc,' said Yisselda of Brass, 'and you cannot make us think you are one now. Give our greetings to Queen Flana. Tell her we shall visit her soon.'

  Huillam D'Averc bowed with a flourish. 'And my greetings, in turn, to your father, Count Brass. Tell him I shall be sitting beside his fire before long and drinking his wine. Is the castle as draughty as it ever was?'

  'We shall prepare a room suitable for one of your delicate health,' Yisselda told him. She took the hand of her son Manfred and the hand of her daughter Yarmila. For the first time, she noticed that Yarmila was holding something. It was Jhary-a-Conel’s small black and white cat.

  'Master Fank gave it to me, mother,' said the child.

  ‘Treat it well, then,' said her father, 'for it is a rarity, that little beast.'

  'Farewell for the moment, Huillam D'Averc,' said Bowgentle. 'I found most interesting the time we spent in Limbo.'

  'I, too, Master Bowgentle. Though I still wish we had had that deck of cards.' Again, the dandy bowed. 'And good-bye, Oladahn, smallest of giants. I wish I could listen to your boastings when you return to the Kamarg.'

  ‘They would be no match for yours, sir, I fear.' Oladahn stroked his whiskers, pleased with the retort. 'I look forward to your visit.'

  Hawkmoon began to stride forward along the shining roadway, eager to begin the journey back to Castle Brass, where the children would meet their noble old grandfather.

  'We'll purchase horses at Karlye,' he said. 'We have credit there.' He turned to his son. 'Tell me, Manfred, what do you remember of your adventures?' He tried to disguise a certain anxiety for his son. 'Do you remember a great deal?'

  'No father,' said Manfred kindly, 'I remember very little.' And he ran forward, and, taking his father's hand, led him towards the distant shore.

  This ends the Third and Last of the Chronicles of Castle Brass.

  This ends the long story of the Eternal Champion.

  About the Author

  Michael Moorcock is married and has two children. He lives in London. As well as writing science fantasy and criticism, he is heavily involved with the rock band, Hawkwind.