by Paula Guran
Moonglum shuddered. “You are on familiar terms with the strangest people, friend Elric,” he said shakily and turned his horse towards the mountains again.
They reached the black mountains on the following day and nervously Shaarilla led them along the rocky route she had memorized. She no longer pleaded with Elric to return—she was resigned to whatever fate awaited them. Elric’s obsession was burning within him and he was filled with impatience—certain that he would find, at last, the ultimate truth of existence in the Dead Gods’ Book. Moonglum was cheerfully skeptical, while Shaarilla was consumed with foreboding.
Rain still fell and the storm growled and crackled above them. But, as the driving rainfall increased with fresh insistence, they came, at last, to the black, gaping mouth of a huge cave.
“I can lead you no further,” Shaarilla said wearily. “The Book lies somewhere beyond, the entrance to this cave.”
Elric and Moonglum looked uncertainly at one another, neither of them sure what move to make next. To have reached their goal seemed somehow anticlimactic—for nothing blocked the cave entrance—and nothing appeared to guard it.
“It is inconceivable,” said Elric, “that the dangers which beset us were not engineered by something, yet here we are—and no one seeks to stop us entering. Are you sure that this is the right cave, Shaarilla?”
The girl pointed upwards to the rock above the entrance. Engraved in it was a curious symbol which Elric instantly recognized.
“The sign of Chaos!” Elric exclaimed. “Perhaps I should have guessed.”
“What does it mean, Elric?” Moonglum asked.
“That is the symbol of everlasting disruption and anarchy,” Elric told him. “We are standing in territory presided over by the Lords of Entropy or one of their minions. So that is who our enemy is! This can only mean one thing—the Book is of extreme importance to the order of things on this plane—possibly all the myriad planes of the universe. It was why Arioch was reluctant to aid me—he, too, is a Lord of Chaos!”
Moonglum stared at him in puzzlement. “What do you mean, Elric?”
“Know you not that two forces govern the world-fighting an eternal battle?” Elric replied: “Law and Chaos. The upholders of Chaos state that in such a world as they rule, all things are possible. Opponents of Chaos—those who ally themselves with the forces of Law—say that without Law nothing material is possible.
“Some stand apart, believing that a balance between the two is the proper state of things, but we cannot. We have become embroiled in a dispute between the two forces. The Book is valuable to either faction, obviously, and I could guess that the minions of Entropy are worried what power we might release if we obtain this Book. Law and Chaos rarely interfere directly in Men’s lives—that is why we have not been fully aware of their presence. Now perhaps, I will discover at last the answer to the one question which concerns me—does an ultimate force rule over the opposing factions of Law and Chaos?”
Elric stepped through the cave entrance, peering into the gloom while the others hesitantly followed him.
“The cave stretches back a long way. All we can do is press on until we find its far wall,” Elric said.
“Let’s hope that its far wall lies not downwards,” Moonglum said ironically as he motioned Elric to lead on.
They stumbled forward as the cave grew darker and darker. Their voices were magnified and hollow to their own ears as the floor of the cave slanted sharply down.
“This is no cave,” Elric whispered, “it’s a tunnel—but I cannot guess where it leads.”
For several hours they pressed onwards in pitch darkness, clinging to one another as they reeled forward, uncertain of their footing and still aware that they were moving down a gradual incline. They lost all sense of time and Elric began to feel as if he were living through a dream. Events seemed to have become so unpredictable and beyond his control that he could no longer cope with thinking about them in ordinary terms. The tunnel was long and dark and wide and cold. It offered no comfort and the floor eventually became the only thing which had any reality. It was firmly beneath his feet. He began to feel that possibly he was not moving—that the floor, after all, was moving and he was remaining stationary. His companions clung to him but he was not aware of them. He was lost and his brain was numb. Sometimes he swayed and felt that he was on the edge of a precipice. Sometimes he fell and his groaning body met hard stone, disproving the proximity of the gulf down which he half-expected to fall.
All the while he made his legs perform walking motions, even though he was not at all sure whether he was actually moving forward. And time meant nothing—became a meaningless concept with relation to nothing.
Until, at last, he was aware of a faint, blue glow ahead of him and he knew that he had been moving forward. He began to run down the incline, but found that he was going too fast and had to check his speed. There was a scent of alien strangeness in the cool air of the cave tunnel and fear was a fluid force which surged over him, something separate from himself.
The others obviously felt it, too, for though they said nothing, Elric could sense it. Slowly they moved downward, drawn like automatons towards the pale blue glow below them.
And then they were out of the tunnel, staring awestruck at the unearthly vision which confronted them. Above them, the very air seemed of the strange blue color which had originally attracted them. They were standing on a jutting slab of rock and, although it was still somehow dark, the eerie blue glow illuminated a stretch of glinting silver beach beneath them. And the beach was lapped by a surging dark sea which moved restlessly like a liquid giant in disturbed slumber. Scattered along the silver beach were the dim shapes of wrecks—the bones of peculiarly designed boats, each of a different pattern from the rest. The sea surged away into darkness and there was no horizon—only blackness. Behind them, they could see a sheer cliff which was also lost in darkness beyond a certain point. And it was cold—bitterly cold, with an unbelievable sharpness. For though the sea threshed beneath them, there was no dampness in the air—no smell of salt. It was a bleak and awesome sight and, apart from the sea, they were the only things that moved—the only things to make sound, for the sea was horribly silent in its restless movement.
“What now, Elric?” whispered Moonglum, shivering.
Elric shook his head and they continued to stand there for a long time until the albino—his white face and hands ghastly in the alien light said: “Since it is impracticable to return—we shall venture over the sea” His voice was hollow and he spoke as one who was unaware of his words.
Steps, cut into the living rock, led down towards the beach and now Elric began to descend them. The others allowed him to lead them staring around them, their eyes lit by a terrible fascination.
Four
Their feet profaned the silence as they reached the silver beach of crystalline stones and crunched across it. Elric’s crimson eyes fixed upon one of the objects littering the beach and he smiled. He shook his head savagely from side to side, as if to clear it. Trembling, he pointed to one of the boats, and the pair saw that it was intact, unlike the others. It was yellow and red—vulgarly gay in this environment and nearing it they observed that it was made of wood, yet unlike any wood they had seen.
Moonglum ran his stubby fingers along its length. “Hard as iron,” he breathed. “No wonder it has not rotted as the others have.” He peered inside and shuddered. “Well the owner won’t argue if we take it,” he said wryly.
Elric and Shaarilla understood him when they saw the unnaturally twisted skeleton which lay at the bottom of the boat. Elric reached inside and pulled the thing out, hurling it on to the stones. It rattled and rolled over the gleaming shingle, disintegrating as it did so, scattering bones over a wide area. The skull came to rest by the edge of the beach, seeming to stare sightlessly out over the disturbing ocean.
As Elric and Moonglum strove to push and pull the boat down the beach towards the sea, Shaarilla moved ahead
of them and squatted down, putting her hand into the wetness. She stood up sharply, shaking the stuff from her hand.
“This is not water as I know it,” she said. They heard her, but said nothing.
“We’ll need a sail,” Elric murmured. The cold breeze was moving out over the ocean. “A cloak should serve.” He stripped off his cloak and knotted it to the mast of the vessel. “Two of us will have to hold this at either edge,” he said. “That way we’ll have some slight control over the direction the boat takes. It’s makeshift—but the best we can manage.”
They shoved off, taking care not to get their feet in the sea.
The wind caught the sail and pushed the boat out over the ocean; moving at a faster pace than Elric had at first reckoned. The boat began to hurtle forward as if possessed of its own volition and Elric’s and Moonglum’s muscles ached as they clung to the bottom ends of the sail.
Soon the silver beach was out of sight and they could see little—he pale blue light above them scarcely penetrating the blackness. It was then that they heard the dry flap of wings over their heads and looked up.
Silently descending were three massive ape-like creatures, borne on great leathery wings. Shaarilla recognized them and gasped.
“Clakars!”
Moonglum shrugged as he hurriedly drew his sword—“A name only—what are they?” But he received no answer for the leading winged ape descended with a rush, mouthing and gibbering, showing long fangs in a slavering snout. Moonglum dropped his portion of the sail and slashed at the beast but it veered away, its huge wings beating, and sailed upwards again.
Elric unsheathed Stormbringer—and was astounded. The blade remained silent, its familiar howl of glee muted. The blade shuddered in his hand and instead of the rush of power which usually flowed up his arm, he felt only a slight tingling. He was panic-stricken for a moment—without the sword, he would soon lose all vitality. Grimly fighting down his fear, he used the sword to protect himself from the rushing attack of one of the winged apes.
The ape gripped the blade, bowling Elric over, but it yelled in pain as the blade cut through one knotted hand, severing fingers which lay twitching and bloody on the narrow deck. Elric gripped the side of the boat and hauled himself upright once more. Shrilling its agony, the winged ape attacked again, but this time with more caution. Elric summoned all his strength and swung the heavy sword in a two-handed grip, ripping off one of the leathery wings so that the mutilated beast flopped about the deck. Judging the place where its heart should be, Elric drove the blade in under the breastbone. The ape’s movements subsided.
Moonglum was lashing wildly at two of the winged apes which were attacking him from both sides. He was down on one knee, vainly hacking at random. He had opened up the whole side of a beast’s head but, though in pain, it still came at him. Elric hurled Stormbringer through the darkness and it struck the wounded beast in the throat, point first. The ape clutched with clawing fingers at the steel and fell overboard. Its corpse floated on the liquid but slowly began to sink. Elric grabbed with frantic fingers at the hilt of his sword, reaching far over the side of the boat. Incredibly, the blade was sinking with the beast. Knowing Stormbringer’s properties as he did, Elric was amazed—once when he had hurled the runesword into the ocean, it had refused to sink. Now it was being dragged beneath the surface as any ordinary blade would be dragged. He gripped the hilt and hauled the sword out of the winged ape’s carcass.
His strength was seeping swiftly from him. It was incredible. What alien laws governed this cavern world? He could not guess—and all he was concerned with was regaining his waning strength. Without the runesword’s power, this was impossible!
Moonglum’s curved blade had disemboweled the remaining beast and the little man was busily tossing the dead thing over the side. He turned, grinning triumphantly, to Elric.
“A good fight,” he said.
Elric shook his head. “We must cross this sea speedily,” he replied, “else we’re lost—finished. My power is gone.”
“How? Why?”
“I know not—unless the forces of Entropy rule more strongly here. Make haste—there is no time for speculation.”
Moonglum’s eyes were disturbed. He could do nothing but act as Elric said.
Elric was trembling in his weakness, holding the billowing sail with draining strength. Shaarilla moved to help him, her thin hands close to his, her deep-set eyes bright with sympathy.
“What were those things?” Moonglum gasped, his teeth naked and white beneath his back-drawn lips, his breath coming short.
“Clakars,” Shaarilla replied. “They are the primeval ancestors of my people, older in origin than recorded time. My people are thought the oldest inhabitants of this planet.”
“Whoever seeks to stop us in this quest of yours had best find some original means.” Moonglum grinned. “The old methods don’t work.” But the other two did not smile, for Elric was half fainting and the woman was concerned only with his plight. Moonglum shrugged, staring ahead.
When he spoke again, sometime later, his voice was excited. “We’re nearing land!”
Land it was, and they were traveling fast towards it. Too fast. Elric heaved himself uptight and spoke heavily and with difficulty. “Drop the sail!” Moonglum obeyed him. The boat sped on, struck another stretch of silver beach and ground up it, the prow plowing a dark scar through the glinting shingle. It stopped suddenly, tilting violently to one side so that the three were tumbled against the boat’s rail.
Shaarilla and Moonglum pulled themselves upright and dragged the limp and nerveless albino onto the beach. Carrying him between them, they struggled up the beach until the crystalline shingle gave way to thick, fluffy moss, padding their footfalls. They laid the albino down and stared at him worriedly, uncertain of their next actions.
Elric strained to rise, but was unable to do so. “Give me time,” he gasped. “I won’t die—but already my eyesight is fading. I can only hope that the blade’s power will return on dry land.”
With a mighty effort, he pulled Stormbringer from its scabbard and he smiled in relief as the evil runesword moaned faintly and then, slowly, its song increased in power as black flame flickered along its length.
Already the power was flowing into Elric’s body, giving him renewed vitality. But even as strength returned, Elric’s crimson eyes flared with terrible misery.
“Without this black blade,” he groaned, “I am nothing, as you see. But what is it making of me? Am I to be bound to it for ever?”
The others did not answer him and they were both moved by an emotion they could not define—an emotion blended of fear, hate and pity-linked with something else . . .
Eventually, Elric rose, trembling, and silently led them up the mossy hillside towards a more natural light which filtered from above. They could see that it came from a wide chimney, leading apparently to the upper air. By means of the light, they could soon make out a dark, irregular shape which towered in the shadow of the gap.
As they neared the shape, they saw that it was a castle of black stone—a sprawling pile covered with dark green crawling lichen which curled over its ancient bulk with an almost sentient protectiveness. Towers appeared to spring at random from it and it covered a vast area. There seemed to be no windows in any part of it and the only orifice was a rearing doorway blocked by thick bars of a metal which glowed with dull redness, but without heat. Above this gate, in flaring amber, was the sign of the Lords of Entropy, representing eight arrows radiating from a central hub in all directions. It appeared to hang in the air without touching the black, lichen-covered stone.
“I think our quest ends here,” Elric said grimly. “Here, or nowhere.”
“Before I go further, Elric, I’d like to know what it is you seek,” Moonglum murmured. “I think I’ve earned the right.”
“A book,” Elric said carelessly. “The Dead Gods’ Book. It lies within those castle walls—of that I certain. We have reached the end of our j
ourney.”
Moonglum shrugged. “I might not have asked,” he smiled, “for all your words mean to me. I hope that I will be allowed some small share of whatever treasure it represents.”
Elric ginned, in spite of the coldness which gripped his bowels, but he did not answer Moonglum “We need to enter the castle, first,” he said instead.
As if the gates had heard him, the metal bars flared to a pale green and then their glow faded back to red and finally dulled into non-existence. The en-trance was unbarred and their way apparently clear.
“I like not that,” growled Moonglum. “Too easy. A trap awaits us—are we to spring it at the pleasure of whoever dwells within the castle confines?”
“What else can we do?” Elric spoke quietly.
“Go back—or forward. Avoid the castle—do not tempt He who guards the Book!” Shaarilla was gripping the albino’s right arm, her whole face moving with fear, her eyes pleading. “Forget the Book, Elric!”
“Now?” Elric laughed humorlessly. “Now—after this journey? No, Shaarilla, not when the truth is so close. Better to die than never to have tried to secure the wisdom in the Book when it lies so near.”
Shaarilla’s clutching fingers relaxed their grip and her shoulders slumped in hopelessness. “We cannot do battle with the minions of Entropy . . . ”
“Perhaps we will not have to.” Elric did not believe his own words but his mouth was twisted with some dark emotion, intense and terrible.
Moonglum glanced at Shaarilla. “Shaarilla is right,” he said with conviction. “You’ll find nothing but bitterness, possibly death, inside those castle walls. Let us, instead, climb yonder steps and attempt to reach the surface.” He pointed to some twisting steps which led towards the yawning rent in the cavern roof.
Elric shook his head. “No. You go if you like.”
Moonglum grimaced in perplexity. “You’re a stubborn one, friend Elric. Well, if it’s all or nothing—then I’m with you. But personally, I have always preferred compromise.”
Elric began to walk slowly forward towards the dark entrance of the bleak and towering castle. In a wide, shadowy courtyard a tall figure, wreathed in scarlet fire, stood awaiting them.
