The Sleeping Sorceress (13 page)

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

The Vanishing Tower

The road widened and left the forest to wander among the heather of high and hilly moorland country. Far away to the west they could see cliffs, and beyond the cliffs was the deeper blue of the ocean. A few birds circled in the wide sky. It seemed a particularly peaceful world and Elric could hardly believe that it was under attack from the forces of Chaos. As they rode Corum explained that his gauntlet was not a gauntlet at all, but the hand of an alien being, grafted onto his arm, just as his eye was an alien eye which could see into a terrifying netherworld from which Corum could bring aid if he chose to do so.

“All you tell me makes the complicated sorceries and cosmologies of my world seem simple in comparison,” Elric smiled as they crossed the peaceful landscape.

“It only seems complicated because it is strange,” Corum said. “Your world would doubtless seem incomprehensible to me if I were suddenly flung into it. Besides,” he laughed, “this particular plane is not my world, either, though it resembles it more than do many. We have one thing in common, Elric, and that is that we are both doomed to play a role in the constant struggle between the Lords of the Higher Worlds—and we shall never understand why that struggle takes place, why it is eternal. We fight, we suffer agonies of mind and soul, but we are never sure that our suffering is worthwhile.”

“You are right,” Elric said feelingly. “We have much in common, you and I, Corum.”

Corum was about to reply when he saw something on the road ahead. It was a mounted warrior. He sat perfectly still as if he awaited them. “Perhaps this is the Third of whom Bolorhiag spoke.”

Cautiously, they rode forward.

The man they approached stared at them from a brooding face. He was as tall as them, but bulkier. His skin was jet black and he wore upon his head and shoulders the stuffed head and pelt of a snarling bear. His plate armour was also black, without insignia, and at his side was a great black-hilted sword in a black scabbard. He rode a massive roan stallion and there was a heavy round shield attached to the back of his saddle. As Elric and Corum came closer the man’s handsome negroid features assumed an astonished expression and he gasped.

“I know you! I know you both!”

Elric, too, felt he recognized the man, just as he had noticed something familiar in Corum’s features.

“How came you here to Balwyn Moor, friend?” Corum asked him.

The man looked about him as if in a daze. “Balwyn Moor? This is Balwyn Moor? I have been here but a few moments. Before that I was—I was . . . Ah! The memory starts to fade again.” He pressed a large hand to his forehead. “A name—another name! No more! Elric! Corum! But I—I am now . . .”

“How do you know our names?” Elric asked him. A mood of dread had seized the albino. He felt that he should not ask these questions, that he should not know the answers.

“Because—don’t you see?—I am Elric—I am Corum—oh, this is the worst agony . . . Or, at least, I have been or am to be Elric or Corum . . .”

“Your name, sir?” Corum said again.

“A thousand names are mine. A thousand heroes I have been. Ah! I am—I am—John Daker—Erekosë—Urlik—many, many, many more . . . The memories, the dreams, the existences.” He stared at them suddenly through his pain-filled eyes. “Do you not understand? Am I the only one to be doomed to understand? I am he who has been called the Champion Eternal—I am the hero who has existed for ever—and, yes, I am Elric of Melniboné—Prince Corum Jhaelen Irsei—I am you, also. We three are the same creature and a myriad other creatures besides. We three are one thing—doomed to struggle for ever and never understand why. Oh! My head pounds. Who tortures me so? Who?”

Elric’s throat was dry. “You say you are another incarnation of myself?”

“If you would phrase it so! You are both other incarnations of
myself
!”

“So,” said Corum, “that is what Bolorhiag meant by the Three Who Are One. We are all aspects of the same man, yet we have tripled our strength because we have been drawn from three different ages. It is the only power which might successfully go against Voilodion Ghagnasdiak of the Vanishing Tower.”

“Is that the castle wherein your guide is imprisoned?” Elric asked, casting a glance of sympathy at the groaning black man.

“Aye. The Vanishing Tower flickers from one plane to another, from one age to another, and exists in a single location only for a few moments at a time. But because we are three separate incarnations of a single hero it is possible that we form a sorcery of some kind which will enable us to follow the tower and attack it. Then, if we free my guide, we can continue on to Tanelorn . . .”

“Tanelorn?” The black man looked at Corum with hope suddenly flooding into his eyes. “I, too, seek Tanelorn. Only there may I discover some remedy to my dreadful fate—which is to know all previous incarnations and be hurled at random from one existence to another! Tanelorn—I must find her!”

“I, too, must discover Tanelorn,” Elric told him, “for on my own plane her inhabitants are in great danger.”

“So we have a common purpose as well as a common identity,” Corum said. “Therefore we shall fight in concert, I pray. First we must free my guide, then go on to Tanelorn.”

“I’ll aid you willingly,” said the black giant.

“And what shall we call you—you who are ourselves?” Corum asked him.

“Call me Erekosë—though another name suggests itself to me—for it was as Erekosë that I came closest to knowing forgetfulness and the fulfillment of love.”

“Then you are to be envied, Erekosë,” Elric said meaningly, “for at least you have come close to forgetfulness . . .”

“You have no inkling of what it is I must forget,” the black giant told him. He shook his reins. “Now Corum—which way to the Vanishing Tower?”

“This road leads to it. We ride down now to Darkvale, I believe.”

*                           *                           *

Elric’s mind could hardly contain the significance of what he had heard. It suggested that the universe—or the multiverse, as Myshella had named it—was divided into infinite layers of existence, that time was virtually a meaningless concept save where it related to one man’s life or one short period of history. And there were planes of existence where the Cosmic Balance was not known at all—or so Corum had suggested—and other planes where the Lords of the Higher Worlds had far greater powers than they had on his own world. He was tempted to consider the idea of forgetting Theleb K’aarna, Myshella, Tanelorn and the rest and devoting himself to the exploration of all these infinite worlds. But then he knew that this could not be for, if Erekosë spoke the truth, then he—or something which was essentially himself—existed in all these planes already. Whatever force it was which he named ‘Fate’ had admitted him to this plane to fulfill one purpose. An important purpose affecting the destinies of a thousand planes it must surely be if it brought him together in three separate incarnations. He glanced curiously at the black giant on his left, at the maimed man with the jeweled hand and eye on his right. Were they really himself?

Now he fancied he felt some of the desperation Erekosë must feel—to remember all those other incarnations, all those other mistakes, all that other pointless conflict—and never to know the purpose for it all, if purpose indeed there were.

“Darkvale,” said Corum pointing down the hill.

The road ran steeply until it passed between two looming cliffs, disappearing in shadow. There was something particularly gloomy about the place.

“I am told there was a village here once,” Corum said to them. “An uninviting spot, eh, brothers?”

“I have seen worse,” murmured Erekosë. “Come, let’s get all this done with . . .” He spurred his roan ahead of the others and galloped at great speed down the steep path. They followed his example and soon they had passed between the lowering cliffs and could barely see ahead of them as they continued to follow the road through the shadows.

And now Elric saw ruins huddled close to the foot of the cliffs on either side. Oddly twisted ruins which had not been the result of age or warfare—these ruins were warped, fused, as if Chaos had touched them while passing through the vale.

Corum had been studying the ruins carefully and at length he reined in. “There,” he said. “That pit. Here is where we must wait.”

Elric looked at the pit. It was ragged and deep and the earth in it seemed freshly turned as if it had been but lately dug. “What must we wait for, friend Corum?”

“For the tower,” said Prince Corum. “I would guess that this is where it appears when it is in this plane.”

“And when will it appear?”

“At no particular time. We must wait. And then, as soon as we see it, we must rush it and attempt to enter before it vanishes again, moving on to the next plane.”

Erekosë’s face was impassive. He dismounted and sat on the hard ground with his back against a slab of rock which had once belonged to a house.

“You seem more patient than I, Erekosë,” said Elric.

“I have learned patience, for I have lived since time began and will live on at the end of time.”

Elric got down from his own black horse and loosened its girth strap while Corum prowled about the edge of the pit. “Who told you that the tower would appear here?” Elric asked him.

“A sorcerer who doubtless serves Law as I do, for I am a mortal doomed to battle Chaos.”

“As am I,” said Erekosë the Champion Eternal.

“As am I,” said Elric of Melniboné, “though I am sworn to serve it.”

Elric looked at his two companions and it was possible to believe that these were two incarnations of himself. Certainly their lives, their struggles, their personalities, to some extent, were very similar.

“And why do you seek Tanelorn, Erekosë?” he asked.

“I have been told that I may find peace there—and wisdom—a means of returning to the world of the Eldren where dwells the woman I love, for it has been said that since Tanelorn exists in all planes at all times it is easier for a man who dwells there to pass between the planes, discover the particular one he seeks. What interest have you in Tanelorn, Lord Elric?”

“I know Tanelorn and I know that you are right to seek it. My mission seems to be the defense of that city upon my own plane—but even now my friends may be destroyed by that which has been brought against them. I pray Corum is right and that in the Vanishing Tower I shall find a means to defeat Theleb K’aarna’s beasts and their masters.”

Corum raised his jeweled hand to his jeweled eye. “I seek Tanelorn for I have heard the city can aid me in my struggle against Chaos.”

“But Tanelorn will fight neither Law nor Chaos—that is why she exists for eternity,” Elric said.

“Aye. Like Erekosë I do not seek swords but wisdom.”

Night fell and Darkvale grew gloomier. While the others watched the pit Elric tried to sleep, but his fears for Tanelorn were too great. Would Myshella try to defend the city? Would Moonglum and Rackhir die? And what could he possibly find in the Vanishing Tower which would aid him? He heard the murmuring of conversation as his other selves discussed how Darkvale had come to exist.

“I heard that Chaos once attacked the town which at that time lay in a quiet valley,” Corum told Erekosë. “The tower was then the property of a knight who gave shelter to one whom Chaos hated. They brought a huge force of creatures against Darkvale, raising and compressing the walls of the valley, but the knight sought the aid of Law which enabled him to shift his tower into another dimension. Then Chaos decreed that the tower should shift for ever, never being on one plane longer than a few moments. The knight and the fugitive went mad at last and killed each other. Then Voilodion Ghagnasdiak found the tower and became resident therein. Too late he realized his mistake as he was shifted from his own plane to an alien one. Since then he has been too fearful to leave the tower but desperate for company. He has taken to the habit of capturing whomever he can and forcing them to be his companions in the Vanishing Tower until they bore him. When they bore him, he slays them.”

“And your guide may soon be slain? What manner of creature is this Voilodion Ghagnasdiak?”

“He is a monstrous evil creature commanding great powers of destruction, that is all I know.”

“Which is why the gods have seen fit to call up three aspects of myself to attack the Vanishing Tower,” said Erekosë. “It must be important to them.”

“It is to me,” said Corum, “for the guide is also my friend and the very existence of the Fifteen Planes is threatened if I cannot find Tanelorn soon.”

Elric heard Erekosë laugh bitterly. “Why cannot I—we—ever be faced with a small problem, a domestic problem? Why are we forever involved with the destiny of the universe?”

Corum replied just as Elric began to nod into a half-doze. “Perhaps domestic problems are worse. Who knows?”

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

Jhary-a-Conel

“It is here! Hasten, Elric!”

Elric sprang up.

It was dawn. He had already stood watch once during the night.

He drew his black sword from its scabbard noticing with some astonishment that Erekosë had already drawn his own blade and that it was almost identical to his own.

There was the Vanishing Tower.

Corum was running towards it even now.

The tower was in fact a small castle of grey and solid stone, but about its battlements played lights and its outline was not altogether clear at certain sections of its walls.

Elric ran beside Erekosë.

“He keeps the door open to lure his ‘guests’ in,” panted the black giant. “It is our only advantage, I think.”

The tower flickered.

“Hasten!” Corum cried again and the Prince in the Scarlet Robe dashed into the darkness of the doorway.

“Hasten!”

They ran into a small antechamber which was lit by a great oil lamp hanging from the ceiling by chains.

The door closed suddenly behind them.

Elric glanced at Erekosë’s tense black features, at Corum’s blemished face. All had swords ready, but now a profound silence filled the hall. Without speaking Corum pointed through a window-slit. The view beyond it had changed. They seemed now to be looking out over blue sea.

“Jhary!” Corum called. “Jhary-a-Conel!”

A faint sound came back. It might have been a reply or it might have been the squeak of a rat in the castle walls. “Jhary!” Corum cried again. “Voilodion Ghagnasdiak? Am I to be thwarted? Have you left this place?”

“I have not left it. What do you want with me?” The voice came from the next room. Warily the three heroes who were one hero went forward.

Something like lightning flickered in the room and in its ghastly glare Elric saw Voilodion Ghagnasdiak.

He was a dwarf clad all in puffed multicoloured silks, furs and satins, a tiny sword in his hand. His head was too large for his body, but it was a handsome head with thick black eyebrows which met in the middle. He smiled at them. “At last someone new to relieve my ennui. But lay down your swords, gentlemen, I beg you, for you are to be my guests.”

“I know what fate your guests may expect,” Corum said. “Know this, Voilodion Ghagnasdiak, we have come to release Jhary-a-Conel whom you hold prisoner. Give him up to us and we will not harm you.”

The dwarf ’s handsome features grinned cheerfully at these words. “But I am very powerful. You cannot defeat me. Watch.”

He waved his sword and more lightning lashed about the room. Elric half-raised his sword to ward it off, but it never quite touched him. He stepped angrily towards the dwarf. “Know this, Voilodion Ghagnasdiak, I am Elric of Melniboné and I have much power. I bear the Black Sword and it thirsts to drink your soul unless you release Prince Corum’s friend!”

Again the dwarf laughed. “Swords? What power have they?”

“Our swords are not ordinary blades,” Erekosë said. “And we have been brought here by forces you could not comprehend—wrenched from our own ages by the power of the gods themselves—specifically to demand that this Jhary-a-Conel be given up to us.”

“You are deceived,” said Voilodion Ghagnasdiak, “or you seek to deceive me. This Jhary is a witty fellow, I’d agree, but what interest could gods have in him?”

Elric raised Stormbringer. The Black Sword moaned in anticipation of a quenching.

Then the dwarf produced a tiny yellow ball from nowhere and flung it at Elric. It bounced on his forehead and he was flung backward across the room, Stormbringer clattering from his hand. Dizzily Elric tried to rise, reached out to take his sword, but he was too weak. On impulse he began to cry for the aid of Arioch, but then he remembered that Arioch had been banished from this world. There were no supernatural allies to call upon here—none but the sword and he could not reach the sword.

Erekosë leapt backward and kicked the Black Sword in Elric’s direction. As the albino’s hand encircled the hilt he felt strength come back to him, but it was no more than ordinary mortal strength. He climbed to his feet.

Corum remained where he was. The dwarf was still laughing. Another ball appeared in his hand. Again he flung it at Elric, but this time he brought up the Black Sword in time and deflected it. It bounced across the room and exploded against the far wall. Something black writhed from the fire.

“It is dangerous to destroy the globes,” said Voilodion Ghagnasdiak equably, “for now what is in them will destroy you.”

The black thing grew. The flames died.

“I am free,” said a voice.

“Aye.” Voilodion Ghagnasdiak was gleeful. “Free to kill these fools who reject my hospitality!”

“Free to be slain,” Elric replied as he watched the thing take shape.

At first it seemed all made of flowing hair which gradually compressed until it formed the outline of a creature with the heavily muscled body of a gorilla, though the hide was thick and warted like that of a rhinoceros. From behind the shoulders curved great black wings and on the neck was the snarling head of a tiger. It clutched a long, scythe-like weapon in its hairy hands. The tiger head roared and the scythe swept out suddenly, barely missing Elric.

Erekosë and Corum began to move forward to Elric’s aid. Elric heard Corum cry: “My eye—it will not see into the netherworld. I cannot summon help!” It seemed that Corum’s sorcerous powers were also limited on this plane. Then Voilodion Ghagnasdiak threw a yellow ball at the black giant and the pale man with the jeweled hand. Both barely managed to deflect the missiles and, in so doing, caused them to burst. Immediately shapes emerged and became two more of the winged tiger-men, and Elric’s allies were forced to defend themselves.

As he dodged another swing of the scythe Elric tried to think of some rune which would summon supernatural aid to him, but he could think of none which would work here. He thrust at the tiger-man but his blow was blocked by the scythe. His opponent was enormously strong and swift. The black wings began to beat and the snarling thing flapped upwards to the ceiling, hovered for a moment and then rushed down on Elric with its scythe whirling, a chilling scream coming from its fanged mouth, its yellow eyes glaring.

Elric felt something close to panic. Stormbringer was not supplying him with the strength he expected. Its powers were diminished on this plane. He barely managed to dodge the scythe again and lash at the creature’s exposed thigh. The blade bit but no blood came. The tiger-man did not seem to notice the wound. Again it began to flap towards the ceiling.

Elric saw that his companions were experiencing a similar plight. Corum’s face was full of consternation as if he had expected an easy victory and now foresaw defeat.

Meanwhile Voilodion Ghagnasdiak continued to scream his glee and flung more of the yellow balls about the room. As each one burst there emerged another snarling winged tiger-creature. The room was full of them. Elric, Erekosë and Corum backed to the far wall as the monsters bore down on them, their ears full of the fearful beating of the giant wings, the harsh screams of hatred.

“I fear I have summoned you two to your destruction,” Corum panted. “I had no warning that our powers would be so limited here. The tower must shift so fast that even the ordinary laws of sorcery do not apply within its walls.”

“They seem to work well enough for the dwarf,” Elric said as he brought up his blade to block first one scythe and then another. “If I could slay but a single . . .”

His back was hard against the wall, a scythe nicked his cheek and drew blood, another tore his cloak, another slashed his arm. The tiger faces were grinning now as they closed in.

Elric aimed a blow at the head of the nearest creature, struck off its ear so that it howled. Stormbringer howled back and stabbed at the thing’s throat.

But the sword hardly penetrated and served only to put the tiger-man slightly off balance.

As the thing staggered Elric wrenched the scythe from its hands and reversed the weapon, drawing the blade across the chest. The tiger-man screamed as blood spurted from the wound.

“I was right!” Elric shouted at the others. “Only their own weapons can harm them!” He moved forward with the scythe in one hand and Stormbringer in the other. The tiger-men backed off and then began to flap upwards to hover near the ceiling.

Elric ran towards Voilodion Ghagnasdiak. The dwarf gave a yell of terror and disappeared through a doorway too small easily to admit Elric.

Then, with thundering wings, the tiger-creatures descended again.

This time the other two strove to capture scythes from their enemies. Driving back those who attacked him, the albino prince took Corum’s main assailant from behind and the thing fell with its head sliced off. Corum sheathed his longsword and plucked up the scythe, killing a third tiger-man almost immediately and kicking the fallen scythe towards Erekosë. Black feathers drifted in the stinking air. The flagstones of the floor were slippery with blood. The three heroes drove a path through their enemies into the smaller room they had lately left. Still the tiger-creatures came on, but now they had to pass through the door and this was more easily defended.

Glancing back Elric saw the window slit of the tower. Outside the scenery altered constantly as the Vanishing Tower continued its erratic progress through the planes of existence. But the three were wearying and all had lost some blood from minor wounds. Scythes clashed on scythes as the fight continued, wings beat loudly and the snarling faces spat at them and spoke words which could barely be understood. Without the strength supplied him by his hell-forged sword Elric was weakening rapidly. Twice he staggered and was borne up by the others. Was he to die in some alien world with his friends never knowing how he had perished? But then he remembered that his friends were even now under attack from the reptilian beasts Theleb K’aarna had sent against Tanelorn, that they, too, would soon be dead. This knowledge gave him a little more strength and enabled him to sweep his scythe deep into the belly of another tiger-creature.

This gap in the ranks of the sorcerous things enabled him to see the small doorway on the far side of the other room. Voilodion Ghagnasdiak was crouched there, hurling still more of the yellow globes. New winged tiger-men grew up to replace those who had fallen.

But then Elric heard Voilodion Ghagnasdiak give a yell and saw that something was covering his face. It was a black-and-white animal with small black wings which beat in the air. Some offspring of the beasts who attacked him? Elric could not tell. But Voilodion Ghagnasdiak was plainly terrified of it, trying to drag it from his face.

Another figure appeared behind the dwarf. Bright eyes peered from an intelligent face framed by long black hair. He was dressed as ostentatiously as the dwarf, but he was unarmed. He was calling to Elric and the albino strained to catch the words even as another tiger-creature came at him.

Corum saw the newcomer now. “Jhary!” he shouted.

“The one you came to save?” Elric asked.

“Aye.”

Elric made to press forward into the room, but Jhary-a-Conel waved him back. “No! No! Stay there!”

Elric frowned, was about to ask why when he was attacked from two sides by the tiger-creatures and had to retreat, slashing his scythe this way and that.

“Link arms!” Jhary-a-Conel cried. “Corum in the centre—and you two draw your swords!”

Elric was panting. He slew another tiger-man and felt a new pain shoot through his leg. Blood gushed from his calf.

Voilodion Ghagnasdiak was still struggling with the thing which clung to his face.

“Hurry!” cried Jhary-a-Conel. “It is your only chance—and mine!”

Elric looked at Corum.

“He is wise, my friend,” Corum said. “He knows many things which we do not. Here, I will stand in the centre.”

Erekosë linked his brawny arm with Corum’s and Elric did the same on the other side. Erekosë drew his sword in his left hand and Elric brought forth Stormbringer in his right.

And something began to happen. A sense of energy came back, then a sense of great physical well-being. Elric looked at his companions and laughed. It was almost as if by combining their powers they had made them four times stronger—as if they had become one entity.

A peculiar feeling of euphoria filled Elric and he knew that Erekosë had spoken the truth—that they were three aspects of the same being.

“Let us finish them!” he shouted—and he saw that they shouted the same. Laughing the linked three strode into the chamber and now the two swords wounded whenever they struck, slaying swiftly and bringing them more energy still.

The winged tiger-men became frantic, flapping about the room as the Three Who Were One pursued them. All three were drenched in their own blood and that of their enemies, all three were laughing, invulnerable, acting completely in unison.

And as they moved the room itself began to shake. They heard Voilodion Ghagnasdiak screaming.

“The tower! The tower! This will destroy the tower!”

Elric looked up from the last corpse. It was true that the tower was swaying wildly from side to side like a ship in a storm.