MASTERS OF THE PIT
Michael Moorcock
For Mr Chip Delany of San Francisco and
Sister Mary Eugene of Bon Secours Convent,
Derby, Pennsylvania
Contents
INTRODUCTION
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
EPILOGUE
The sickness is Fear and the remedy is Faith
INTRODUCTION
Sitting in my study one autumn night, a small fire burning in the grate taking the chill off a room filled with the scents of oncoming winter, I heard a footfall in the hall below.
I am not a nervous man, but I can be an imaginative one, and I had thoughts of both ghosts and burglars as I left the leather armchair and opened the door. The hall was quiet and the lights were out, but I saw a shadowy figure coming up the stairs towards me.
There was something about the size of the man, something about the jingle he made as he walked, that I recognized instantly. A grin began to spread across my face as he approached, and I held out my hand to him.
"Michael Kane? " It was hardly a question.
"It is," replied the deep, vibrant voice of my visitor. He came to the top of the stairs and I felt my hand enclosed in a firm, manly grip. I saw the giant smile in return.
"How is Mars?" I asked, as I led him into the study.
"A little changed from when we last spoke," he said,
"You must tell me," I said eagerly. "What will you have to drink?"
"No liquor, thanks. I'm not used to it any longer. How about some coffee? That's the one thing I miss on Mars."
"Wait here," I told him. "I'm all alone in the house today. I'll go and make some."
I left him slumped in a chair beside the fire, his magnificent, bronzed body completely relaxed. He looked strangely incongruous in his Martian war harness, studded as it was with unfamiliar gems, his huge longsword with its ornate basket hilt resting with its tip on the floor.
His diamond-blue eyes seemed much more humorous and even less full of tension than when I had last seen him. His manner had relaxed me, too, even in my excitement at seeing my friend again.
In the kitchen I prepared the coffee, remembering all that he had told me of his past adventures - of Shlzala, Princess of the Vamala and of Hool Haji, now ruler of Mendishar, his wife and his closest friend respectively I remembered how his first trip to Mars* - an ancient Mars, far in our own past - had been made accidentally because of a malfunctioning matter transmitter, a development of laser research he had been pursuing in Chicago; how he had met and fought for Shizala against the fearsome Blue Giants and their leader Horguhl, a woman of her own race who had a secret power over people, across the lush landscapes of a strange planet. I remembered how he had sought my help and I had given it - building a matter transmitter in my own basement. He had returned to Mars** and had faced many dangers, discovering the lost underground city of the Yaksha, helping to win a revolution and fighting strange, spider creatures before finally finding Shizala again and marrying her. Using the forgotten scientific devices of the Yaksha - a race now supposed to be extinct - he had built a machine capable of flinging him across Time and Space again to a transceiver in my basement.
Evidently he had, as he had promised before he left the last time, returned to tell me of his latest adventures.
I went back with the coffee and set it in front of him.
He poured himself a cup, tasting it a little suspiciously at first, then added milk and sugar. He took his first swallow and grinned.
"One thing I haven't lost my taste for," he said.
"And one thing I haven't lost my taste for," I replied eagerly. "I want to hear your latest story from beginning to end."
"Have you published the first two adventures yet?" he asked.
At that time I had not, so I shook my head. "Someone will believe me sufficiently to publish them," I told him. "People believe I wrote them cynically for one reason or another - but we know that I did not, that you are real, that your exploits actually happened. One day they will realize this, when governments are prepared to release the information that confirms what you have told me. They will realize that you are no liar and that I am no crack-pot - or worse, a commercial writer trying to write a science fiction novel."
*{See 'City of the Beast' - NEL, 1971) **(See 'Lord of the Spiders' - NEL, 1971)
"I hope so," he said seriously, "because it would be a shame for people not to be able to read the story of my experiences on Mars."
As he finished his first cup of coffee and reached forward to help himself to another, I fixed the tape-recorder so that it would take down every word he said. Then I settled back in my chair.
"Is your marvellous memory working at full capacity as usual? " I asked.
He smiled. "I think so."
"And you're going to tell me of your recent adventures on Mars?"
"If you wish to hear them."
"I do. How is Shizala, your wife? How is Hool Haji, your friend the Blue Giant? And Horguhl - any news of her?"
"None of Horguhl," he said. "And Fate be thanked for that!"
"Then what? Surely things can't have been so uneventful on Mars!"
"They certainly were not. I am only just recovering from everything that happened. Telling you about it all will help me, as usual, to bring it into perspective. Where shall I begin? "
"The last I heard from you was that you and Shizala were living happily in Varnal, that you had designed airships to supplement the Varnalian air force, and that you had made several expeditions to the Yaksha underground city to study their machines."
"That's right." He nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I can begin with our sixth expedition to the Yaksha city. That was when things really started to happen. Are you ready?"
"I am ready," I replied.
Kane began his story.
EPB
Chester Square, London, S.W.I. August 1969
Chapter One
THE AERIAL EXPEDITION
I KISSED Shizala farewell, little realizing that I would not see her again for many Martian months, and clasped the ladder leading into the cabin of my airship - a vessel designed to my own specifications.
Shizala looked lovelier than ever, a womanly woman who was, without doubt, the most beautiful human being on the whole planet of Mars.
The slender towers of Vamal, the city of which I was now a Bradhinak, or prince, rose around us in the light of the early morning sun. There was a smell of scented mist - the green mist which came from the lake in the centre of Vamal, sending delicate green traceries through the air to mingle with the pennants of lovely colours floating at masts rising from the towers. Most of the buildings are tall and white, though a number are of fine blue marble, while others have veins of gold running through them. It is a delicate, beautiful city - perhaps the finest on Mars.
This was where we had lived since our marriage and we had been exquisitely happy there. But I am a restless soul and my mind was eager for new information about the forgotten machines of Mars in the vaults of the Yaksha, which still needed investigation.
Thus, when Hool Haji had flown from Mendishar, far in the North, to visit me, it ha
d not been long before I had suggested an expedition to the Yaksha vaults, partially for the sake of old times.
He had agreed eagerly, and so it had been decided. We should only be away for the equivalent of an Earthly week, and Shizala, loving me with a deep and abiding love which I fully reciprocated, did not object to this venture.
Now Hool Haji, the Blue Giant who had become my firmest friend on Mars, waited above in the cabin of the airship as it swayed gently in the breeze.
Once more I kissed Shizala without speaking. There was no need for speech - we communicated with our eyes, and that was sufficient.
I began to climb the ladder into the ship.
The interior was comfortably furnished with couches of a stuff rather like red plush, and the metal work was similar to brass and polished in the same way. There was something vaguely nostalgic and Victorian about the design and I had encouraged the motif throughout the ship. The ropes crisscrossing the gas-bag, for instance, were of thick, red cord and the metal cabin had been painted in bright greens and reds, with scroll-work picked out in gold. The controls of the ship were at the front, and once again these were of the brass-like metal, enamelled in black.
I started the engine as I climbed into the seat next to Hool Haji, whose massive, blue-skinned bulk dwarfed me.
My friend watched with interest as I pulled a lever, releasing the cords which held the ship near the ground, and I began to steer her away from Vamal - not without a pang, for I knew that I should miss both Shizala and the City of Green Mists.
I did not know then that I was to be separated from them for a very long time, that circumstances were so to arrange themselves that I would face death, endure enormous discomforts and experience hideous dangers before I should see them again.
It was, however, in this slightly melancholy mood, yet with mounting excitement at the prospect of studying the Yaksha machines again, that I set course Northwards. It was going to be a long journey, even in my comparatively speedy airship.
The journey to the Yaksha city in the desert was not to be without interruption, however, for on the second day of our trip the engines began to falter. I. was surprised, for I trusted my engineers.
I turned to Hool Haji. My friend was looking down at the country far below. It was a predominantly yellow landscape, of great flowers similar to gigantic irises, swaying below us as if in a graceful, though monotonous, dance. Every so often the sea of yellow flowers was broken by effusions of blue or green, each splash of colour, a bloom like a marigold in general appearance. Even at this distance above them, they sent up languorous scents that delighted my nostrils. Hool Haji seemed entranced by this beauty and had not even noticed the change of note in the engine.
"It looks as if we might have to land," I informed him.
He glanced up at me. "Why, Michael Kane? Would it not be unwise?"
"What do you mean, unwise?" I asked.
He pointed downwards.
"The flowers."
"We could find a clearing.”
"That is not what I am trying to say. Have you not heard of the Flowers of Modnaf? They are attractive at a distance but highly dangerous when you come close to them. Their scent from here is pleasant, but when approached more closely it induces first a lethargy, then a creeping madness. Many have been trapped by these flowers and their vitality sapped, leaving them dry of everything human, to become mindless creatures wandering eventually to the quicksands of Golana, where they are sucked down slowly and never heard of again."
I shuddered. "No human being should suffer such a fate?"
"But many have! And those who have survived have become little more than walking dead men."
"Then let us steer a course away from both Modnaf and Golana and hope that our motor does not give up until they are far behind us," I said, making up my mind to avoid the dangers below us at all costs, even if it necessitated drifting in the wind until we had passed them by.
As I nursed the engine along, Hool Haji told me the story of an old, desperate man who had once dreamed of power, one Blemplac the Mad, who was still supposed to wander below. He had imbibed so much of the scents that they no longer affected him as they did others and he had managed to survive the quicksands - because he had been their original creator. Apparently he had once been a benevolent and beneficient man who had acquired a little scientific knowledge from somewhere and had dreamed of greatness. Knowing little of what he handled, he had tried to use his knowledge to build a vast, gleaming tower that would inspire men with its beauty and grandeur. The foundations had been laid and it had seemed for a long time that he would succeed. Sadly, something had gone wrong and his mind had become affected. His experiment had gone out of control and the result was the quicksands, which had peculiar and unnatural properties found nowhere else.
At length, and with a feeling of tremendous relief, we passed over the flowers and the quicksands. I had only observed the quicksands at night, by the light of the moons that hurtled above, but the glimpse was enough to tell me that Hool Haji had not exaggerated. Strange cries had risen from the slowly shifting muck below, insane ravings that sometimes seemed to be words, but I could make no sense out of them, nor did I try very hard.
By morning we were crossing a series of deep, gleaming lakes dotted with green islands and the occasional boat scudding across the vast expanse of water.
I remarked on the welcome contrast to Hool Haji and he agreed. While we had crossed the previous territory he had been more disturbed than he had admitted. I asked if it was sensible to try to land, since the engine was now working in fits and starts and was soon bound to give up altogether. He said it would be safe, for these were the islands of enlightened and intelligent folk who had the ability to entertain and delight any visitor to the lakes. He pointed out names as we passed over them. There was one lush island, set somewhat apart from the rest.
"That is an island called Drallab," Hool Haji explained. "It's folk have only rare contact with their neighbours, but though they appear to play little part in the activities of the other islands they exert a great artistic influence on them and are really extremely benevolent. They entertained me once, when I travelled the islands, and I enjoyed every moment of my stay."
Another island appeared. This was a strange-looking place of peculiar contrasts for so small an island. I could make out a small forest, a mountain, a barren area -and other features. This was K'cocroom, Hool Haji informed me, an island that had only in the last few years emerged from the lake and was still largely unpopulated, though the few people who lived there seemed a folk of strange contrasts, sometimes friendly to strangers, sometimes not.
We decided not to land there and passed over several other islands, with Hool Haji naming them all with great affection. There was S'Sidla, a gentle landscape of strong, straight trees and rich, dark glades, and Nosirrah, a rugged, healthy looking place with, Hool Haji informed me, great treasures yet un-mined.
I was eager to hear all this, even though part of my attention was on the engine, for everything I heard told me more about a world I had still only partially explored, and the more I knew the better I would be equipped to survive in it.
At length we had managed to nurse the airship over all the islands and saw ahead of us on the mainland - which we decided was a better place to land in case the engine proved unrepairable - a city which was called, Hool Haji told me, Cend-Amrid. The people, he said, were well known for their craftsmanship and skill with the few technical devices in circulation on Mars. They would help us more than the islanders, though the islanders were possibly more friendly.
I manipulated my controls and we began to drop down towards Cend-Amrid.
Later I was to regret not landing on one of the islands, for Hool Haji was to find Cend-Amrid changed from the place he had known when, as a wandering outcast, he had spent some time in the city.
But it was with relief in our hearts that we drifted over the city as evening came, bathing its dark towers in deep shadow.
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It was a silent place and few lights burned, but I put this down to the fact that its inhabitants were a hard-working folk, according to Hool Haji, whose pleasures were simple and did not extend to any kind of night-time festivities.
We descended on the outskirts of the city and I released the grappling anchor which imbedded its sharp prongs into the earth and enabled me to climb down the ladder and secure the ropes to a couple of stunted trees that grew nearby.
Chapter Two
CITY OF THE CURSE
As we walked towards Cend-Amrid, Hool Haji's hand went instinctively to his sword-hilt. Knowing him so well, I recognized the gesture and found it puzzling.
"Something wrong?" I asked.
"I am not sure, my friend," he said quietly.
"I thought you said Cend-Amrid would be a safe place for us."
"So I thought. But I am uneasy. I cannot explain it.”
His mood conveyed itself to me and a trace of darkness clouded my brain.
Hool Haji shrugged. "I am tired. I expect that is all it is."
I accepted the explanation and we walked towards the gate of the city, feeling a little less perturbed.
The gate was open and no guards protected it. If the people were so generous-spirited to allow this, then this would mean we should have little difficulty in finding help.
Hool Haji, however, muttered something about this being unusual. "They are not a gregarious folk," he said.
Into the silent streets we walked. The tall, dark buildings seeming without a trace of life, like stage sets built for some extravagant production - and the stage seemed empty now.
Our feet echoed as we stepped along. Hool Haji leading the way towards the centre of the city.
A little later I heard something else and stopped, putting my hand on Hool Haji's arm. We listened.
There it was - a soft footfall such as would be made by a man walking in cloth slippers or boots of very fine leather.
Masters of the Pit or Barbarians of Mars Page 1
