To Rescue Tanelorn (5 page)

I was moved to horror by his whispered words, but still curious to know more. “What are they? Where are they?”

“We have no answer to either question. They are worlds full of shadow and gloomy shores upon which drab seas beat. The populace can sometimes be summoned by powerful sorcery to visit this Earth, to haunt, to help or to terrorize. We think that the Eldren came, originally, from these half-worlds if they were not, as our legends say, spawned from the womb of a wicked queen who gave her hand to Azmobaana in return for immortality—the immortality which her offspring inherited. But the Eldren are material enough, for all their lack of souls, whereas the Ghost Armies are rarely of solid flesh.”

“And why is that girl known as the Wanton of the Ghost Worlds?” I asked.

“It is said that she mates with ghouls,” answered the king, “and in return has special powers over the halflings who are friends with the ghouls. The halflings love her, as far as it is possible for such degenerate creatures to love.”

I could not believe the first part. The girl seemed young, innocent. I said as much.

“How do you tell the age of an immortal?” Rigenos replied. I could not, of course, answer. But I thought much of Ermizhad as we went on to talk of the immediate considerations of war against the Eldren.

We had little clear idea where the rest of the Eldren forces were marshaled. There were four other major cities on the continent of Mernadin. The chief of these was Loos Ptokai which lay near to the Plains of Melting Ice. This was Arjavh’s headquarters and, from what the Eldren on the flagship had said, he was either there now or marching to recapture Paphanaal.

“We must not forget the sorcerous fortresses of the Outer Islands,” Rigenos told me, “at World’s Edge. The Outer Islands lie in the Gateway to the Ghost Worlds and from there they can summon their ghoulish allies. Perhaps, now Paphanaal is taken, we should concentrate on smashing their strength in the West, at World’s Edge.”

I wondered if he over-estimated the power of the Ghost World denizens. “Have you ever seen these halflings?” I asked him.

“Oh, yes, my friend,” he replied. “I’ve seen them. You are wrong if you believe them legendary things. They are, in one sense at least, real enough.”

He had convinced me. “Very well,” I said. “We’ll leave a force here strong enough to defend the city, return to Necranal, re-equip the fleets and make war on the Outer Islands. But how do you plan to use Ermizhad? Will you leave her here or take her back to Necranal?”

“Necranal, I think,” he said. “We shall keep her in our principal city until such time as we need to use her, if ever we have to bargain with Arjavh.”

“A sensible plan,” I agreed.

“We’ll settle our position here,” he said, “and set sail back to Necranal within a week. We should waste no time—now that we have gained Paphanaal, we must fear an attack from Prince Arjavh’s frightful Ghost Armies.”

There were minor details of the plan to discuss and, while the victorious warriors pleasured themselves on Eldren bounty, we talked of urgent matters.

It was slower going back to the Two Continents, for our mighty vessels groaned with captured Eldren treasure.

Ermizhad had been grudgingly given decent quarters next to mine. This was at my request. Although he hated the Eldren still, King Rigenos had exhausted some of the earlier ferocity he had felt in the heat of war. However, he would have nothing to do with her and when he got the opportunity he spoke of Ermizhad in her presence as if she was not there; spoke disdainfully of her and his disgust for all her kind.

I saw a little of her and, in spite of the king’s warnings, came to like her. She was certainly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her beauty was different from the cool beauty of Iolinda, my betrothed.

What is love? Even now, now that the whole pattern of my destiny has been fulfilled, I do not know. Oh, yes, I still loved Iolinda, but I think while I did not know it I was falling in love with Ermizhad. I refused to believe in the stories told about her and held affection for her though, at the time, had no thought of pursuing it, remaining loyal to Iolinda. But there must be countless forms of love. Which is the form which conquers the rest? I cannot define it. I shall not try.

Ermizhad’s beauty had the fascination for being an unhuman beauty, but close enough to my race’s ideal to attract me.

She had the long pointed Eldren face, slanting eyes that seemed blind in their strange milkiness, slightly pointed ears, high slanting cheekbones and a slender body that was almost boyish. All the Eldren women were slender, like this, small-breasted and narrow-waisted. Her red lips were fairly wide, curving naturally upwards so that she always seemed to be on the point of smiling while her face was in repose.

For the first week out she would not speak. I saw that she had everything for her comfort and she thanked me through her guards, that was all. But one day I stood outside the set of cabins where she, the king and I had our apartments, leaning over the rail looking at a grey sea and an overcast sky.

She took the initiative.

“Greetings, Sir Champion,” she said half-mockingly as she came out of her cabin.

I turned, surprised.

“Greetings—Lady Ermizhad,” said I. She was dressed in a cloak of midnight blue flung around a simple smock of pale blue wool.

“A day of omens, I think,” she said looking at the gloomy sky which boiled darkly above us, full of heavy greys and dusty yellows.

“Why think you?” said I.

She laughed. It was lovely to hear—crystal and gold-strung harps, the music of heaven, not hell.

“Forgive me, I sought to trouble you, but I see you are not so prone to suggestion as others of your race. In fact,” she frowned, “there is an air about you which makes me think you are not wholly of that race.”

“I am of it,” I told her, “but not from this period of time. I have been many heroes—but always human. How I got here, I do not know. I am not sure where I am, in the far future or the far past.”

“That would depend on what period of time you came from,” she said. “For we believe that time moves in a circle, so that the past is the future and the future is the past.”

“An interesting theory,” I said.

“More than a theory, Lord Erekosë.” She came and stood by the ship’s rail, one hand resting upon it.

At that time, I felt the affection that I supposed a father might have for a daughter—a father who delights in his offspring’s assured innocence. She could not have been, I felt sure, more than nineteen. Yet her voice had a confidence that comes with knowledge of the world, her carriage was proud, also confident. I realized that King Rigenos might well have spoken truly. How, indeed, could you gauge the age of an immortal?

“I have the feeling,” I said, “that I come from your past—that this, in relation to what I call the twentieth century—is the far future.”

“This world is very ancient,” she agreed.

“Is there a record of a time when only human beings occupied the Earth?”

“No,” she smiled, “there is an echo of a myth, the thread of a legend, which says that there was a time when only the Eldren occupied the Earth. My brother has studied this—I believe he knows more.”

I shivered. I did not know why, but my vitals seemed to chill within me. I could not, easily, continue the conversation, though I wanted to. She appeared not to have noticed my discomfort.

At last I said: “A day of omens, madam. I hope to talk with you again some time.” I bowed and returned to my cabin.

I saw her in the same place the next day. The sky had cleared somewhat and sunlight pushed thick beams through the clouds, the rays slanting down on the choppy sea so that the world seemed half dark, half light. A moody day.

We stood for a while in silence, leaning out over the rail, watching the surf slide by, watching the oars smash into the waters in monotonous rhythm.

Again, she was the first to speak.

“What do they plan to do with me?” she asked quietly.

“You will be a hostage against the eventuality of your brother Prince Arjavh ever attacking Necranal,” I told her. “You will be safe—King Rigenos will not be able to bargain if you are harmed.”

She sighed.

“Why did not you and the other Eldren women flee when our fleets put in to Paphanaal?” I asked. This had puzzled me.

“The Eldren do not flee,” she said. “They do not flee from cities theirs by right.”

“They fled to the Mountains of Sorrow centuries ago,” I pointed out.

“No,” she shook her head, “they were driven there. There is a difference.”

“There is a difference,” I agreed.

“Who speaks of difference?” A new, harsher voice broke in. It was Rigenos. He had come out of his cabin silently and stood behind us, feet apart on the swaying deck.

“Greetings, sire,” I said. “We were discussing the meaning of words.”

“You’ve become uncommon friendly with the Eldren bitch,” he sneered. What was it about a man who had shown himself noble and brave in many ways that when the Eldren were concerned he became an uncouth iconoclast?

“Sire,” I pointed out softly, “you speak of one who, though our enemy, is of noble blood.”

Again he sneered. “Noble blood! The vile stuff which flows in their polluted veins cannot be termed thus. Beware, Erekosë! I realize that you are not altogether versed in our ways or our knowledge, that your memory is hazy—but remember that the Eldren wanton has a tongue of liquid gold which can beguile you to your doom and ours. Pay no heed to her.”

“Sire…” I said.

“She’ll weave such a spell that you’ll be a fawning dog at her mercy and no good to any of us. I tell you, Erekosë, beware. Gods, I’ve half a mind to give her to the rowers and let them have their way with her.”

“You placed her under my protection, king,” I said angrily, “and I am sworn to protect her against
all
dangers.”

“Fool!” he said. “I have warned you. I do not want to lose your friendship, Erekosë—and more, I do not want to lose our War Champion. If she shows further signs of enchanting you, I shall slay her. No-one shall stop me.”

“I am doing your work, king,” I said, “at your request. But remember
you
this, I am Erekosë. I have been many other champions. What I do is for the human race. I have taken no oath of loyalty to you or any other king. I am Erekosë, the War Champion—Champion of Humanity, not Rigenos’s Champion!”

His eyes narrowed. “Is this treachery, Erekosë?”

“No, King Rigenos. Disagreement with a single representative of Humanity does not constitute treachery to mankind.”

He said nothing, just stood there, seeming to hate me as much as he hated the Eldren girl. His breathing was heavy and rasped in his throat.

“Give me no reason to regret my summoning of thee, dead Erekosë,” he said at length and turned away, back to his cabin.

“I think we’d best remain apart,” said Ermizhad quietly.

“Dead Erekosë, eh?” I said and then grinned. “If I’m dead then I’m strangely prone to emotion for a corpse.” I made light of our dispute, yet events had taken a turn which had caused me to fear that he would not, for one thing, allow me the hand of Iolinda.

Although he warmed somewhat as the journey reached its end, I was still troubled as we sailed up the Droonaa River and came again to Necranal.

As it happened, King Rigenos found himself in no position to refuse me aught. I received such an ovation upon my return, that to go against my wishes would have aroused the wrath of the people against him. I think he began to see me as a threat to his throne, then, but I was not interested in his crown, only in his daughter.

The king announced our betrothal the next day and the news was received with joy by the citizens of Necranal. We stood before them on the great balcony overlooking the city. We smiled and waved but, when we went inside again, the king left us with a curt word and hurried away.

“Father seems to disapprove of our match,” Iolinda said in puzzlement, “in spite of his consent.”

“A disagreement about tactics,” I comforted her. “He will soon forget.”

But, I admitted to myself, I still felt troubled.

Iolinda and I lay together, as was the custom in the Human Kingdoms. But, that first night, we did not make love.

Two days later there came word that what we had sought to avert by taking Paphanaal had actually come to pass.

Eldren ships had beached on the coast of Necralala. An Eldren army was pushing towards Necranal and, it was said, none could stand against it.

The king spoke to me sombrely.

“You must go, Erekosë, and do battle with the Hounds of Evil. Evidently we underestimated their strength. News is that Prince Arjavh leads them. This is our opportunity to strike the head from the monster that is the Eldren.”

“I’ll take forty divisions of men,” I said, “and leave at once.”

“Twenty divisions will be enough,” he said. “Even then you will outnumber the Eldren horde.”

“But surely it is best to be safe,” I said.

“Twenty,” he said dogmatically, “we’ll need the rest in case other attacks have been made from other parts of the coasts. You’ll agree that my logic is reasonable?”

“I agree,” I nodded, “but this seems, I think, more a question of emotion than logic.”

“What do you mean?” His eyes had a half-guilty look.

“Nothing,” I said. “I will take twenty divisions. Will you agree to fifteen of those being cavalry?”

“I’ll agree to that,” he said. “Fifteen cavalry divisions and five infantry. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I said.

I rode in my proud armour at the head of my army, my lance flaunting my banner of bronze portcullis on an azure field. It was with seeming sorrow that Iolinda had bade me farewell. Ermizhad had said little when I told her of my mission, but she had been tense.

Well before we met Arjavh’s forces, we heard stories of their progress from fleeing villagers. Apparently they were marching doggedly towards Necranal, avoiding any settlements they came to. If I guessed right, the reason for Prince Arjavh being in Necralala was for the purpose of rescuing his sister. I knew little of the Eldren prince save that he was a monster incarnate, a slayer of women and children. I was impatient to meet him in battle. Other stories had told that half his forces were comprised of halflings—things from the Ghost Worlds.