The Vanishing Tower

  The Vanishing Tower

  The Elric Saga

  Book IV

  Michael Moorcock

  Content

  Book One The Torment of the Last Lord

  Chapter One Pale Prince on a Moonlit Shore

  Chapter Two White Face Staring Through Snow

  Chapter Three Feathers Filling a Great Sky

  Chapter Four Old Castle Standing Alone

  Chapter Five Doomed Lord Dreaming

  Chapter Six Jewelled Bird Speaking

  Chapter Seven Black Wizard Laughing

  Chapter Eight A Great Host Screaming

  Book Two To Snare the Pale Prince

  Chapter One The Beggar Court

  Chapter Two The Stolen Ring

  Chapter Three The Cold Ghouls

  Chapter Four Punishment of the Burning God

  Chapter Five Things Which Are Not Women

  Chapter Six The Jesting Demon

  Book Three Three Heroes with a Single Aim

  Chapter One Tanelorn Eternal

  Chapter Two Return of a Sorceress

  Chapter Three The Barrier Broken

  Chapter Four The Vanishing Tower

  Chapter Five Jhary-a-Conel

  Chapter Six Pale Lord Shouting in Sunlight

  Book One

  The Torment of the Last Lord

  ... and then did Elric leave Jharkor in pursuit of a certain sorcerer who had, so Elric claimed, caused him some inconvenience ...

  —The Chronicle of the Black Sword

  Chapter One

  Pale Prince on a Moonlit Shore

  In the sky, a cold moon, cloaked in clouds, sent down faint light that fell upon a sullen sea where a ship lay at anchor off an uninhabited coast.

  From the ship a boat was being lowered. It swayed in its harness. Two figures, swathed in long capes, watched the seamen lowering the boat while they, themselves, tried to calm horses which stamped their hooves on the unstable deck and snorted and rolled their eyes.

  The shorter figure clung hard to his horse's bridle and grumbled.

  "Why should this be necessary? Why could not we have disembarked at Trepesaz? Or at least some fish­ing harbour boasting an inn, however lowly. . . ."

  "Because, friend Moonglum, I wish our arrival in Lormyr to be secret. If Theleb K'aarna knew of my coming—as he soon would if we went to Trepesaz—then he would fly again and the chase would begin afresh. Would you welcome that?"

  Moonglum shrugged. "I still feel that your pursuit of this sorcerer is no more than a surrogate for real activity. You seek him because you do not wish to seek your proper destiny...."

  Elric turned his bone-white face in the moonlight and regarded Moonglum with crimson, moody eyes. "And what of it? You need not accompany me if you do not wish to. ..."

  Again Moonglum shrugged his shoulders. "Aye. I know. Perhaps I stay with you for the same reasons that you pursue the sorcerer of Pan Tang." He grinned. "So that's enough of debate, eh, Lord Elric?"

  "Debate achieves nothing," Elric agreed. He patted his horse's nose as more seamen, clad in colourful Tarkeshite silks, came forward to take the horses and hoist them down to the waiting boat.

  Struggling, whinnying through the bags muffling their heads, the horses were lowered, their hooves thudding on the bottom of the boat as if they would stave it in. Then Elric and Moonglum, their bundles on their backs, swung down the ropes and jumped into the rock­ing craft. The sailors pushed off from the ship with their oars and then, bodies bending, began to row for the shore.

  The late autumn air was cold. Moonglum shivered as he stared towards the bleak cliffs ahead. "Winter is near and I'd rather be domiciled at some friendly tavern than roaming abroad. When this business is done with the sorcerer, what say we head for Jadmar or one of the other big Vilmirian cities and see what mood the warmer clime puts us in?"

  But Elric did not reply. His strange eyes stared into the darkness and they seemed to be peering into the depths of his own soul and not liking what they saw.

  Moonglum sighed and pursed his lips. He huddled deeper in his cloak and rubbed his hands to warm them. He was used to his friend's sudden lapses of silence, but familiarity did not make him enjoy them any better. From somewhere on the shore a nightbird shrieked and a small animal squealed. The sailors grunted as they pulled on their oars.

  The moon came out from behind the clouds and it shone on Elric's grim, white face, made his crimson eyes seem to glow like the coals of hell, revealed the barren cliffs of the shore.

  The sailors shipped their oars as the boat's bottom ground on shingle. The horses, smelling land, snorted and moved their hooves. Elric and Moonglum rose to steady them.

  Two seamen leaped into the cold water and brought the boat up higher. Another patted the neck of Elric's horse and did not look directly at the albino as he spoke. "The captain said you would pay me when we reached the Lormyrian shore, my lord."

  Elric grunted and reached under his cloak. He drew out a jewel that shone brightly through the darkness of the night. The sailor gasped and stretched out his hand to take it. "Xiombarg's blood, I have never seen so fine a gem!"

  Elric began to lead the horse into the shallows and Moonglum hastily followed him, cursing under his breath and shaking his head from side to side.

  Laughing among themselves, the sailors shoved the boat back into deeper water.

  As Elric and Moonglum mounted their horses and the boat pulled through the darkness towards the ship, Moonglum said: "That jewel was worth a hundred times the cost of our passage!"

  "What of it?" Elric fitted his feet in his stirrups and made his horse walk towards a part of the cliff which was less steep than the rest. He stood up in his stirrups for a moment to adjust his cloak and settle himself more firmly in his saddle. "There is a path here, by the look of it. Much overgrown."

  "I would point out," Moonglum said bitterly, "that if it were left to you, Lord Elric, we should have no means of livelihood at all. If I had not taken the pre­caution of retaining some of the profits made from the sale of that trireme we captured and auctioned in Dhakos, we should be paupers now."

  "Aye," returned Elric carelessly, and he spurred his horse up the path that led to the top of the cliff.

  In frustration Moonglum shook his head, but he fol­lowed the albino.

  By dawn they were riding over the undulating land­scape of small hills and valleys that made up the ter­rain of Lormyr's most northerly peninsula.

  "Since Theleb K'aarna must needs live off rich pa­trons," Elric explained as they rode, "he will almost certainly go to the capital, Iosaz, where King Montan rules. He will seek service with some noble, perhaps King Montan himself."

  "And how soon shall we see the capital, Lord Elric?" Moonglum looked up at the clouds.

  "It is several days' ride, Master Moonglum."

  Moonglum sighed. The sky bore signs of snow and the tent he carried rolled behind his saddle was of thin silk, suitable for the hotter lands of the East and West.

  He thanked his gods that he wore a thick quilted jerkin beneath his breastplate and that before he had left the ship he had pulled on a pair of woollen breeks to go beneath the gaudier breeks of red silk that were his outer wear. His conical cap of fur, iron and leather had earflaps which were now drawn tightly and se­cured by a thong beneath his chin and his heavy deer­skin cape was drawn closely around his shoulders.

  Elric, for his part, seemed not to notice the chill weather. His own cape flapped behind him. He wore breeks of deep blue silk, a high collared shirt of black silk, a steel breastplate lacquered a gleaming black, like his helmet, and embossed with patterns of delicate silverwork. Behind his saddle were deep panniers and across this was a bow and a quiver of arrows. At his side swun
g the huge runesword Stormbringer, the source of his strength and his misery, and on his right hip was a long dirk, presented him by Queen Yishana of Jharkor.

  Moonglum bore a similar bow and quiver. On each hip was a sword, one short and straight, the other long and curved, after the fashion of the men of Elwher, his homeland. Both blades were in scabbards of beautifully worked Ilmioran leather, embellished with stitching of scarlet and gold thread.

  Together the pair looked, to those who had not heard of them, like free travelling mercenaries who had been more successful than most in their chosen careers.

  Their horses bore them tirelessly through the country­side. These were tall Shazarian steeds, known all over the Young Kingdoms for their stamina and intelligence.

  After several weeks cooped up in the hold of the Tarke­shite ship they were glad to be moving again.

  Now small villages—squat houses of stone and thatch—came in sight, but Elric and Moonglum were careful to avoid them.

  Lormyr was one of the oldest of the Young Kingdoms and much of the world's history had been made there. Even the Melniboneans had heard the tales of Lormyr's hero of ancient times, Aubec of Malador of the province of Klant, who was said to have carved new lands from the stuff of Chaos that had once existed at the World's Edge. But Lormyr had long since declined from her peak of power (though still a major nation of the South­west) and had mellowed into a nation that was at once picturesque and cultured. Elric and Moonglum passed pleasant farmsteads, well-nurtured fields, vineyards and orchards in which the golden-leaved trees were sur­rounded by time-worn, moss-grown walls. A sweet land and a peaceful land in contrast to the rawer, bustling North-western nations of Jharkor, Tarkesh and Dhari­jor which they had left behind.

  Moonglum gazed around him as they slowed their horses to a trot. "Theleb K'aarna could work much mis­chief here, Elric. I am reminded of the peaceful hills and plains of Elwher, my own land."

  Elric nodded. "Lormyr's years of turbulence ended when she cast off Melnibone's shackles and was first to proclaim herself a free nation. I have a liking for this restful landscape. It soothes me. Now we have another reason for finding the sorcerer before he begins to stir his brew of corruption."

  Moonglum smiled quietly. "Be careful, my lord, for you are once again succumbing to those soft emotions you so despise. . . ."

  Elric straightened his back. "Come. Let's make haste for Iosaz."

  "The sooner we reach a city with a decent tavern and a warm fire, the better." Moonglum drew his cape tighter about his thin body.

  "Then pray that the sorcerer's soul is soon sent to Limbo, Master Moonglum, for then I'll be content to sit before the fire all winter long if it suits you."

  And Elric made his horse break into a sudden gallop as grey evening closed over the tranquil hills.

  Chapter Two

  White Face Staring Through Snow

  Lormyr was famous for her great rivers. It was her rivers that had helped make her rich and had kept her strong.

  After three days' travelling, when a light snow had begun to drift from the sky, Elric and Moonglum rode out of the hills and saw before them the foaming waters of the Schlan River, tributary of the Zaphra-Trepek which flowed from beyond Iosaz down to the sea at Trepesaz.

  No ships sailed the Schlan at this point, for there were rapids and huge waterfalls every few miles, but at the old town of Stagasaz, built where the Schlan joined the Zaphra-Trepek, Elric planned to send Moonglum into town and buy a small boat in which they could sail up the Zaphra-Trepek to Iosaz where Theleb K'aarna was almost certain to be.

  They followed the banks of the Schlan now, riding hard and hoping to reach the outskirts of the town be­fore nightfall. They rode past fishing villages and the houses of minor nobles, they were occasionally hailed by friendly fishermen who trawled the quieter reaches of the river, but they did not stop. The fishermen were typical of the area, with ruddy features and huge curl­ing moustaches, dressed in heavily embroidered linen smocks and leather boots that reached almost to their thighs; men who in past times had been ever ready to lay down their nets, pick up swords and halberds and mount horses to go to the defence of their homeland.

  "Could we not borrow one of their boats?" Moon­glum suggested. But Elric shook his head. "The fishermen of the Schlan are well known for their gossiping. The news of our presence might well precede us and warn Theleb K'aarna."

  "You seem needlessly cautious. ..."

  "I have lost him too often."

  More rapids came in sight. Great black rocks glistened in the gloom and roaring water gushed over them, sending spray high into the air. There were no houses or villages here and the paths beside the banks were narrow and treacherous so that Elric and Moonglum were forced to slow their pace and make their way with caution.

  Moonglum shouted over the noise of the water: "We'll not reach Stagasaz by nightfall now!"

  Elric nodded. "We'll make camp below the rapids. There."

  The snow was still falling and the wind drove it against their faces so that it became even more difficult to pick their way along the narrow track that now wound high above the river.

  But at last the tumult began to die and the track widened out and the waters calmed and, with relief, they looked about them over the plain to find a likely camping place.

  It was Moonglum who saw them first.

  His finger was unsteady as he pointed into the sky towards the north.

  "Elric. What make you of those?"

  Elric peered up into the lowering sky, brushing snowflakes from his face.

  His expression was at first puzzled. His brow fur­rowed and his eyes narrowed.

  Black shapes against the sky.

  Winged shapes.

  It was impossible at this distance to judge their scale, but they did not fly the way birds fly. Elric was re­minded of another flying creature—a creature he had last seen when he and the Sealords fled burning Imrryr and the folk of Melnibone had released their vengeance upon the reavers.

  That vengeance had taken two forms.

  The first form had been the golden battle-barges which had waited for the attack as they left the Dream­ing City.

  The second form had been the great dragons of the Bright Empire.

  And these creatures in the distance had something of the look of dragons.

  Had the Melniboneans discovered a means of waking the dragons before the end of their normal sleeping time? Had they unleashed their dragons to seek out Elric, who had slain his own kin, betrayed his own un-human kind in order to have revenge on his cousin Yyrkoon who had usurped Elric's place on the Ruby Throne of Imrryr?

  Now Elric's expression hardened into a grim mask. His crimson eyes shone like polished rubies. His left hand fell upon the hilt of his great black battleblade, the runesword Stormbringer, and he controlled a rising sense of horror.

  For now, in mid-air, the shapes had changed. No longer did they have the appearance of dragons, but this time they seemed to be like multicoloured swans, whose gleaming feathers caught and diffracted the few remaining rays of light.

  Moonglum gasped as they came nearer.

  "They are huge!"

  "Draw your swords, friend Moonglum. Draw them now and pray to whatever gods rule over Elwher. For these are creatures of sorcery and they are doubtless sent by Theleb K'aarna to destroy us. My respect for that conjurer increases."

  "What are they, Elric?"

  "Creatures of Chaos. In Melnibone they are called the Oonai. They can change shape at will. A sorcerer of great mental discipline, of superlative powers, who knows the apposite spells can master them and deter­mine their appearance. Some of my ancestors could do such things, but I thought no mere conjurer of Pan Tang could master the chimerae!"

  "Do you know no spell to counter them?"

  "None comes readily to mind. Only a Lord of Chaos such as my patron demon Arioch could dismiss them."

  Moonglum shuddered. "Then call your Arioch, I beg you!"

  Elric
darted a half-amused glance at Moonglum. "These creatures must fill you with great fear indeed if you are prepared to entertain the presence of Arioch, Master Moonglum."

  Moonglum drew his long, curved sword. "Perhaps they have no business with us," he suggested. "But it is as well to be prepared."

  Elric smiled. "Aye."

  Then Moonglum drew his straight sword, curling his horse's reins around his arm.

  A shrill, cackling sound from the skies.

  The horses pawed at the ground.

  The cackling grew louder. The creatures opened their beaks and called to one another and it was very plain now that they were indeed something other than gigantic swans, for they had curling tongues. And there were slim, sharp fangs bristling in those beaks. They changed direction slightly, winging straight for the two men.

  Elric flung back his head and drew out his great sword and raised it skyward. It pulsed and moaned and a strange, black radiance poured from it, casting peculiar shadows over its owner's blanched features.

  The Shazarian horse screamed and reared and words began to pour from Elric's tormented face.

  "Arioch! Arioch! Arioch! Lord of the Seven Darks, Duke of Chaos, aid me! Aid me now, Arioch!"

  Moonglum's own horse had backed away in panic and the little man was having great difficulty in con­trolling it. His own features were almost as pale as Elric's.

  "Arioch!"

  Overhead the chimerae began to circle.

  "Arioch! Blood and souls if you will aid me now!"

  Then, some yards away, a dark mist seemed to well up from nowhere. It was a boiling mist that had strange, disgusting shapes in it

  "Arioch!"

  The mist grew still thicker.

  "Arioch! I beg you—aid me now!"

  The horse pawed at the air, snorting and screaming, its eyes rolling, its nostrils flaring. Yet Elric, his lips curled back over his teeth so that he looked like a rabid wolf, continued to keep his seat as the dark mist quiv­ered and a strange, unearthly face appeared in the upper part of the shifting column. It was a face of won­derful beauty, of absolute evil. Moonglum turned his head away, unable to regard it.