Phoenix in Obsidian

by Michael Moorcock

  Now Bladrak shouted to his leading craft. “Go in quickly, loose your weapons and then retreat. Wait for their own boats to follow and then lead them a dance while we get the slaves aboard in the confusion.”

  That was my plan. I prayed it was a good one.

  The leading craft acknowledged Bladrak’s orders and sped ahead while the others slowed and waited in a bank of brown cloud.

  Soon we heard a distant commotion, then we saw the ships of the Scarlet Fjord scudding away from the island. They were pursued by larger, heavier craft which seemed to be the first ships that actually moved through the waters, but I could not see, from that distance, what powered them.

  Now we moved in.

  The island of Nalanarc grew larger and larger and I could see through the twilight that there were buildings actually raised on parts of the place. Perhaps the Silver Warriors did not build habitually in the living stone as did Bladrak’s and Rowernarc’s people.

  The buildings were square, squat, dimly lit from within. They were built down a hill with a large building centrally placed at the top. At the bottom of the hill were the familiar openings to caverns.

  “That is where the slaves are,” Bladrak told me. “They are worked in those caverns building ships and weapons until they die, then a new batch replaces them. Men and women of all ages are there. They are hardly fed anything. There are always plenty more, you see. I do not think the Silver Warriors mean our folk to live once the world is theirs.”

  While I was prepared to believe Bladrak, I had once before been told by those who had summoned me that the people they fought were unremittingly evil. I had discovered that the Eldren were in fact the victims. I wanted to see for myself what the Silver Warriors were doing.

  The herons drew our boats up onto the island’s beach and we piled out, heading for the caverns at the base of the hill.

  It was plain that almost all the Silver Warriors had gone in pursuit of the few ships we had sent in ahead. I guessed it would not be a tactic we could use twice.

  Into the caves we ran and I had my first sight of the warriors.

  They were on average a good seven feet high, but extremely thin, with long arms and legs and narrow heads. Their skin was actually white, but with a faint silver sheen. Their armour covered their bodies, apparently without joins, and their heads were encased in tight-fitting helmets.

  They were armed with long, double-bladed halberds. When they saw us, they came rushing at us with them. But they seemed somewhat clumsy with the halberds and I guessed they might be used to some other kind of weapon.

  We had armed ourselves with what Bladrak had assured me were the only useful tools against the Silver Warriors whose armour could not be pierced and would burn whoever tried to handle it.

  These weapons were wide-meshed nets which we flung at them as they approached. The nets clung to their bodies and tripped them and they could not free themselves.

  I looked about the cavern workshops and was horrified by the condition of the naked men, women and children who had been set to labouring here.

  “Get these people out as quickly as you can,” I said.

  One Silver Warrior had not been entangled by a net. He came running at me with his halberd. I knocked it aside with my restored battle-axe and, heedless of the warning Bladrak had given me, chopped at his body.

  A horrible jolt ran up my arms and sent me staggering. But the Silver Warrior had been toppled too.

  I was incredulous. I knew I had received nothing less than an electric shock.

  Now Bladrak and his men were herding the dazed slaves out of the caves towards the ships.

  I looked up at the larger building on the top of the hill. I saw a glint of silver and I saw a shape that was familiar framed against a window.

  It was someone wearing the bulbous armour of Rowernarc.

  Filled with curiosity and careless of the potential danger, I dodged behind one of the square, featureless buildings and then began to creep closer up the hill.

  The figure was probably unaware that he could be seen so easily from below. He was gesturing angrily as he watched Bladrak’s men helping the wretched slaves aboard their ships.

  I heard a voice.

  I could not make out the words, but the tone was more than familiar to me.

  I crept closer, anxious to have confirmed by my eyes what had already been confirmed by my ears.

  I saw the face now.

  It was Bishop Belphig, of course. Every suspicion I had had about him was proved right.

  “Have you no understanding?” he was crying. “That pirate Bladrak will not only make off with most of your labour force—he will turn half of those into soldiers to fight against you.”

  I heard a murmured reply, then a group of Silver Warriors came running down the hill, saw me—and charged with their halberds.

  I turned and fled, just as Bladrak’s boat was leaving.

  “We thought we had lost you, Sir Champion,” he grinned. “What were you doing up there?”

  “I was listening to a conversation.”

  Halberds fell into the water on either side of us but we were soon out of range.

  Bladrak said: “It will take them time to bring up their heavier weapons. We did well. Not a man wounded, even—and a satisfactory cargo.” He gestured towards the boats crammed with rescued slaves. Then what I had said registered with him.

  “Conversation? What did you learn?”

  “I learned that Rowernarc has a leader who would bring about her ruin,” I said.

  “Belphig?”

  “Aye. He’s up there, doubtless with the leader of the Silver Warriors on the island. Now I know his main reason for his ‘hunt’. He wished to rid himself of me, for fear I should aid you against his allies—and he needed to make a secret rendezvous with the Silver Warriors.”

  Bladrak shrugged. “I always suspected him of something of the sort. They have no values, those folk in Rowernarc.”

  “Save, perhaps, their Lord Temporal—Shanosfane. And no human being deserves the fate of these wretches.” I jerked my thumb at the thin, dirty bodies of the Silver Warriors’ ex-slaves.

  “What would you do about it, Count Urlik?”

  “I must think, Sir Bladrak.”

  He gave me a long, hard look and said softly: “Are you sure it is not yet time to use your sword?”

  I avoided his eye and stared out to sea. “I have not said I intend to use the sword at any time.”

  “Then I do not think we shall live long,” he said.

  4

  THE LADY OF THE CHALICE

  AND THUS WE came back to the Scarlet Fjord. The freed slaves looked around them in wonder as our boats tied up at quays bathed in rosy light from the honeycombed cliff on the far side of the fjord.

  “Best mount extra guards from now on,” Bladrak told one of his lieutenants. Absently, he twisted one of the golden bracelets on his arm. “Belphig knows us and he knows the Scarlet Fjord. They’ll try reprisals.”

  Weary from our expedition we went inside and pleasant women brought us meat and wine. There was plenty of extra room in the city of the Scarlet Fjord and the freed slaves would find themselves well provided for. Bladrak was frowning, though, as he sat opposite me and looked across the quartz table.

  “Are you still thinking of the Black Sword?” I asked him.

  He shook his head. “No. That’s for you to think about. I was considering the implications of Belphig’s perfidy. From time to time we have the odd man or woman in the Scarlet Fjord who decides that Rowernarc offers pursuits more to their taste. We allow them to leave, of course, and—they go…”

  “You mean that Belphig may be aware of many of your plans?” I said.

  “You mentioned that he was unnerved by the sound of Urlik’s Bell. Plainly he knows everything about you, about the Lady of the Chalice and so on. Equally plainly, he sought to soften you up in Rowernarc—in the hope he could bring you over to his side. When that failed…”


  “He marooned me. But now he must know I sail with you.”

  “Aye. And he will pass on all his information to his alien masters. What do you think they will do then?”

  “They will try to strike before we grow any stronger.”

  “Aye. But will they strike at the Scarlet Fjord first—or will they take Rowernarc and the cities further up the coast?”

  “It will be easier for them to take the cities, I suspect,” I replied. “Then they can concentrate their full power upon the Scarlet Fjord.”

  “That’s my guess, also.”

  “The question now is—do we remain here, building up our strength for a siege, or do we go to the aid of Rowernarc and the rest?”

  “It’s a difficult problem.” Bladrak stood up, running his fingers through his red hair. “I would like to consult one who could offer us wisdom on the matter.”

  “You have philosophers here? Or strategists?”

  “Not exactly. We have the Lady of the Chalice.”

  “She dwells in the Scarlet Fjord? I did not realise…”

  He smiled and shook his head. “She may come to the Scarlet Fjord, however.”

  “I should like to meet this woman. After all, she seems responsible for my fate.”

  “Then come with me,” Bladrak said, and he led me through an inner door and into a long passage which sloped sharply downward.

  Soon a strong saline smell reached my nostrils and I noticed that the walls were damp. I guessed that we were actually under the fjord itself.

  The passage widened into a chamber. From the roof grew long stalactites in milky blues, yellows and greens. A soft radiance issued from the stalactites themselves and cast our gigantic shadows on the rough igneous rock of the cavern’s walls. In the centre of the chamber an area of basalt had been smoothed and leveled and into it had been placed a small staff of about half a man’s height. The staff was a deep, lustreless black with mottlings of dark blue. The cavern contained no other artifact.

  “What is the staff for?” I asked.

  Bladrak shook his head. “I do not know. It has always been here. It was here long before my ancestors came to the Scarlet Fjord.”

  “Has it any connection with the Lady of the Chalice?”

  “I think it might have, for it is here that she appears to us.” He looked about him, half nervously I thought. “Lady?”

  It was all he said. Then a distant, high-pitched, oscillating whine came from all around us in the air. The stalactites vibrated and I prayed they would not be brought down on our heads by the sound. The short staff embedded in the basalt seemed to change colour slightly, but that might have been something cast by one of the vibrating stalactites. The whine increased until it began to sound like a human scream and I recognised it with some trepidation. I blinked my eyes. I thought I saw the outline of the huge golden chalice again. I turned to say something to Bladrak and then looked back in astonishment.

  A woman stood there. She was wreathed in golden light. Her dress and her hair were of gold and on her hands she wore gloves.

  Her face was covered by a golden veil.

  Bladrak kneeled. “Lady, we need your help again.”

  “My help?” came a sweet voice. “When your great hero Urlik has joined you at last?”

  “I have no power of prophecy, my lady,” I replied. “Bladrak believes that you might have.”

  “My own powers are limited and I am not permitted to reveal all I see, even then. What do you wish to know, Sir Champion?”

  “Let Bladrak tell you.”

  Bladrak climbed to his feet. Quickly he outlined the problem. Should we go to the aid of Rowernarc and the other cities? Or should we wait until the Silver Warriors attacked us?

  The Lady of the Chalice seemed to deliberate. “The fewer killed in this struggle the better I shall like it,” she said. “It would seem to me that the sooner it is over the more folk will be saved.”

  Bladrak gestured with his hands. “But Rowernarc has brought this on herself. Who is to say how many warriors are on Belphig’s side? Perhaps the city will fall without bloodshed…”

  “There would be bloodshed soon enough,” said the Lady of the Chalice. “Belphig would destroy all he did not trust.”

  “Likely, aye…” mused Bladrak Morningspear. He glanced at me.

  “Is there a way of killing the Silver Warriors?” I asked the mysterious woman. “At the moment we are badly handicapped.”

  “They cannot be killed,” she said. “Not by your weapons, at least.”

  Bladrak shrugged. “Then I will risk many men in trying to save the worthless citizens of Rowernarc. I am not sure they would like to die for that cause, lady.”

  “Surely some are not worthless,” said she. “What of Lord Shanosfane? He would be in great danger if Belphig gained complete power over Rowernarc.”

  I admitted that Shanosfane was in danger and I agreed that the strange, abstracted Lord Temporal was worth saving from Belphig.

  Then she asked, rather strangely: “Would you say that Lord Shanosfane was a good man?”

  “Aye,” I replied. “Eminently good.”

  “I think, then, that you will need him in the near future,” she said.

  “Perhaps we can get to Rowernarc before Belphig finishes his business on Nalanarc?” I suggested. “We could get the populace away before the Silver Warriors attacked.”

  “Belphig’s business on Nalanarc was finished for him,” Bladrak pointed out. “And now that we know he is allied to the Silver Warriors, he will waste no time in attacking.”

  “True.”

  “But only the Black Sword will defeat Belphig,” said the veiled woman, “and now you possess it, Lord Urlik.”

  “I will not use it,” I said.

  “You will use it.” The air pulsed. She vanished.

  I recognised the statement. It had no threat in it, only certainty. I had heard it before while marooned on the sea-stag’s island.

  I rubbed my face with my hands. “I would be grateful if I was allowed to work out my own destiny for once,” I said. “For good or ill.”

  “Come.” Bladrak began to leave the cavern.

  I followed him, lost in my own thoughts. Everything was conspiring to force me into a pattern of behaviour which all my instincts rejected. But perhaps my instincts were wrong…

  We returned to Bladrak’s apartments in time to receive a messenger who had just arrived.

  “My lords, the Silver Warriors’ fleet has left harbour and is sailing directly south.”

  “Bound for…?” Bladrak queried.

  “For Rowernarc, I think.”

  Bladrak snorted. “We’ve been wasting time, I see. We’ll never reach Rowernarc before they do. Also it could be a trick to divert us. For all I know their real ambition is to draw us off while another fleet attacks the Scarlet Fjord.” He looked sardonically at me. “We are still in a quandary, Count Urlik.”

  “The Lady of the Chalice seemed to indicate that it would be to our advantage if Shanosfane were saved,” I said. “We must think of him, at least.”

  “Risk a fleet for one man of Rowernarc?” Bladrak laughed. “No, Sir Champion!”

  “Then I must go alone,” I said.

  “You’ll achieve nothing—save to lose us our Hero.”

  “Your Hero, Sir Bladrak,” I pointed out, “has done precious little for you so far.”

  “Your rôle will be clear soon.”

  “It is clear now. I have a great respect for Lord Shanosfane. I cannot bear to think of him being butchered by Belphig.”

  “I understand—but you cannot risk so much, Count Urlik.”

  “I could afford to,” I said, “if I had an ally.”

  “An ally? I could not desert my folk to embark upon an—”

  “I speak not of you, Bladrak. I appreciate that you must stay with your people. I did not mean a human ally.”

  He looked at me in astonishment. “Supernatural? What?”

  In me now wa
s a mixture of melancholy and relief. There was but one course open to me. I took it. I at once felt that I was giving in and making a courageous decision.

  “The Black Sword,” I said.

  Bladrak, too, looked as if he had had a weight removed from his shoulders. He grinned and clapped me on the back. “Aye. It would seem a shame not to blood it now that you have it.”

  “Bring it to me,” I told him.

  5

  THE WAKING OF THE SWORD

  THEY BROUGHT THE ebony case and they laid it on the table carved from quartz while conflicting emotions fought within me until I was so dizzy I could scarcely see the thing.

  I put my hands upon the case. It felt warm. There seemed to be a faint pulse coming from within it, like the beating of a heart.

  I looked at Bladrak who was staring at me, grim-faced. I took hold of the clasp and tried to raise it.

  It was tightly locked.

  “It will not open,” I said. I was almost glad. “I cannot move it. Perhaps, after all, it was not meant…”

  And then, inside my head, loudly came the chant again:

  BLACK SWORD

  BLACK SWORD

  BLACK SWORD

  THE BLACK SWORD IS THE CHAMPION’S SWORD

  THE WORD OF THE SWORD IS THE CHAMPION’S LAW

  BLACK SWORD

  BLACK SWORD

  BLACK SWORD

  THE BLADE OF THE SWORD HAS THE BLOOD OF THE SUN

  THE HILT OF THE SWORD AND THE HAND ARE AS ONE

  BLACK SWORD

  BLACK SWORD

  BLACK SWORD

  THE RUNES ON THE SWORD ARE THE WORMS THAT ARE WISE

  THE NAME OF THE SWORD IS THE SAME AS THE SCYTHE

  BLACK SWORD

  BLACK SWORD

  BLACK SWORD

  THE DEATH OF THE SWORD IS THE DEATH OF ALL LIFE

  IF THE BLACK SWORD IS WAKENED IT MUST TAKE ITS BLACK FIEF

  BLACK SWORD

  BLACK SWORD

  BLACK SWORD

  Now I wavered in my resolve at the last phrase. A huge sense of doom pressed upon me. I staggered back, my lips writhing, my whole soul in agony.

  “No…”

  Bladrak leapt forward and supported me.

  My voice was strangled. “Bladrak—you must leave here.”