To Rescue Tanelorn (4 page)

Excited, tense, alert and confident of victory, we sailed for Paphanaal, gateway to Mernadin and conquest.

I knew little of the Eldren for they were constantly described in terms of hatred and fear. They were inhumanly beautiful, it seemed, inhumanly merciless, amoral and evil. They were slightly taller than the average man, had long heads with slanting cheekbones—devilish, Rigenos had said—and had no orbs to their eyes. Terrible reckless fighters, they were, cunning and ruthless.

But I felt the need to know more of them. My cloudy memory, as Erekosë, could only conjure an impression of confused battles against them and, also, somewhere a feeling of emotional pain. That was all.

The sea was a good one for the whole month of our sailing and, one day, we came close to Mernadin and lookouts shouted that ships approached. We saw them, at last—a fleet of scarcely half our number. I smiled without humour because I knew we should be victorious.

The Eldren ships came close! I gasped at their rare grace as they leapt lightly over the water like dolphins.

They were not galleons, but ships of sail only and the sails were diaphanous on slim masts. White hulls broke the darker white of the surf as they surged wildly, without faltering, towards us. They mounted a few cannon, but not so many as ours. Their cannon, however, were slender and silver and when I saw them I feared their power.

I saw glimpses of eldritch faces, but could not, at that distance, make out special characteristics.

We gave the orders to heave to, rocked in the sea awaiting the Eldren shark-ships speeding towards us. We manoeuvred, as planned, to form a square with one end opened.

Some eighty ships were at the far end of the square, set stem to stern with cannon bristling while the two other sides were leveled at a safe distance across so that their cannon were out of range of each other. We placed a thinner wall of ships, about twelve, at the open end to give the impression of a closed square.

The Eldren craft, cannon roaring, smashed into the twelve ‘bait’ ships and, under their own impetus, sailed on to find themselves surrounded on three sides. As they came through, the far ships slowly closed in to form a triangle, trapping the Eldren vessels.

I had never seen such highly manoeuvrable sailing craft as those used by the Eldren. Slightly smaller than our men-o’-war, they darted about and their cannon bellowed roaring balls of flame—fire-bombs, not solid shot. Many of our ships were fired and blazed, crackling and groaning as the flames consumed them. Our ranks began to break and we sailed implacably in to crush the Eldren ships.

So far there had been no hand-to-hand fighting. The battle had depended upon tactics, but now as we closed, grapples were hurled towards the shark-ships of the Eldren and their barbs cut into the white rails, pulling the sailing craft towards them.

In the fore of the battle, our cannon gouting and the whole ship reverberating with the mighty roar, we smashed full with our rams into a slender Eldren craft and broke it completely in two. I saw figures throw up their arms and I heard King Rigenos laughing behind me as the Eldren drowned, with few cries, in silence.

Our ship moved through the wreckage it had created, surrounded by orange tongues of flame, shrieks and yells, thick smoke which obscured vision in all directions so that it was impossible to tell how the Fleets of Humanity fared.

Rigenos pointed through the smoke, his eyes screwed up against its acrid blossomings: “There! The Eldren flagship. With luck that cursed servant of Azmobaana may be aboard. Pray that the Eldren Prince rides her, Erekosë, for if he does our cause is truly won.”

I paid him little heed but shouted the order for grappling irons to be readied. Our vessel reared up on a surging wave and then rode it down towards the Eldren flagship. Our grapples were flung, we locked.

King Rigenos bellowed across the narrow drop between our craft and that of the Eldren: “This is King Rigenos and his champion Erekosë. I’d speak with your commander for a moment, in the usual truce. If your master Arjavh of Mernadin is there let him come and do battle with the king’s champion!”

Through the shifting smoke I saw, dimly, a pointed golden face with milky blue-flecked eyes staring strangely from the sockets of the slanting head. An eldritch voice, like music, sang across the sea: “I am Duke Baynahn, Commander of the Eldren fleet. I have to tell thee that our Prince Arjavh is not aboard. He is in the West, in Loos Ptokai, and could not get to Paphanaal for the battle.”

Rigenos turned to his captain, Katorn, who bore a heavy crossbow. “Kill that one, Katorn,” he said quietly.

Duke Baynahn continued: “However, I am prepared to fight your champion if…”

“No!” I cried to Katorn. “Stop! King Rigenos, that is dishonourable—you speak during a truce.”

“There is no question of honour, Erekosë, when exterminating vermin. That you will soon learn. Kill him, Katorn!”

The bolt whirred from the bow and I heard a soft gasp as it penetrated the Eldren speaker’s throat. He fell. I was in a rage at the treachery shown by one who spoke so often of treachery in his enemies, but there was no time to remonstrate for I had to lead a boarding party and swiftly while we retained the advantage.

I took a trailing rope, unsheathed my glowing sword and cried: “For Humanity! Death to the Hounds of Evil!”

I swung down, the heated air slashing against my face in that swift passage, and dropped, with howling warriors behind me, among the Eldren ranks.

Then we were fighting.

My followers took care to stay away from me as the sword opened pale wounds in the Eldren foes, destroying all whom it lightly touched. There was no battle-joy in me as I fought, for no skill was needed for such slaying.

The slender shark-ships seemed to hold more men than I had estimated. The long-skulled Eldren, well aware that my sword touch was lethal, flung themselves at me with ferocious courage.

Many of them wielded long-hafted axes, swinging at me out of reach of my sword. The sword was not sharper than most and although I hacked at the shafts I succeeded only in splintering them slightly. I had constantly to duck, stab beneath the whirling axes.

A golden-haired Eldren leapt at me, swung his axe and it smashed against my shoulder plate knocking me off balance. I rolled, trying desperately to regain my footing on the blood-smeared deck. The axe smashed down again, on to my breastplate, winding me. I struggled to a crouching position, plunged forward beneath the axe and slashed at the Eldren’s wrist. He moaned and died. The poison had done its work again.

Now I saw we had the advantage. The last pocket of fiercely fighting Eldren were on the main deck, back to back around their banner—a scarlet field bearing the Silver Basilisk of Mernadin. They were engulfed by our forces and, although all were badly wounded, fought until slain. They knew we should give them no mercy.

Katorn who had led the attack on the main deck snatched down the banner and flung it in the flowing blood of the Eldren, trampling it. “Thus will all the Eldren perish!” he shouted in triumph.

Now a kind of silence drifted over the scene as the smoke dissipated, hanging in the air high above us. The day was won. Not one prisoner had been taken. The human warriors were busy firing the remaining Eldren vessels.

“Surely,” said I to Katorn, “that is a waste—we could use these ships to replace those lost.”

“Use these cursed craft—never,” he said with a twist of his mouth and strode to the rail of the Eldren flagship, shouting to his men to follow him back to our own vessel.

We clambered aboard our ship. The grapples were removed and the Eldren ship yawed away.

“Fire it,” cried King Rigenos who had taken no part in the actual fighting, though I knew it was said he was a brave man. “Fire the thing.”

Blazing arrows were accurately shot into bales of combustible materials which had been placed in specific parts of the Eldren ship. The slender vessel caught and drifted, blazing away, from us.

The fleets reassembled. We had lost fourteen men-o’-war and a hundred smaller craft—but nothing remained of the Eldren fleet save burning hulks which we left, sinking, behind us as we sailed on, gleeful, to Paphanaal.

Night came before we reached the harbour city, so we lay at anchor a league or so offshore.

In the shifting dawn of the morrow we upped anchors and rowed in towards Paphanaal, for there was no wind to fill our sails.

Nearer we came to land.

I saw cliffs and black mountains rising.

Nearer and I saw a flash of brighter colour to the east of us. “
Paphanaal!
” shouted the lookout from his precarious perch on the highest mast.

Nearer and there was Paphanaal, undefended as far as we could make out. We had left her fleet on the bottom of the ocean, far behind.

There were no domes on this city, no minarets. There were steeples and buttresses and battlements, all close together making the city seem like one great palace. The materials of their construction were breathtaking—white marble veined with pink, blue, green and yellow, faced with gold, basalt and quartz and bluestone in abundance. It was a shining city, of marvels.

We saw no-one as we came close and I guessed that the city had been deserted. But I was wrong.

We put in to the great harbour and disembarked. I formed our armies into disciplined ranks and warned them of a possible trap, although I didn’t really believe there could be one.

They stood before King Rigenos, Katorn and I, rank upon rank upon rank of them, armour bright, banners moving sluggishly in the breeze. There were seven hundred divisions, each hundred commanded by a marshal in command of captains and knights. The Paladins and Armies of Humanity stood before me and I was proud. I addressed them:

“Marshals, Captains, Knights and Warriors of Humanity, you have seen me to be a victorious War Leader.”

“Aye!” they roared, jubilant.

“We shall be victorious here and elsewhere in the land of Mernadin. Go now, with caution, and search these houses and buildings for Eldren jackals. Take what booty you desire, but be careful. This city could hide an army, remember.”

The divisions marched past us, each taking a different direction. The city received them in its streets, but it did not welcome them.

We found a city of women. Not one Eldren man had remained. We had slain them all at sea.

We took over the palace which had belonged to the dead Warden of Paphanaal.

They brought a girl to us. Black-haired, elfin-faced, her alien features composed against the fear she felt. She had shifting beauty which was always there, but seemed to change with every breath she took. They had torn her garments and bruised her arms and face.

“Erekosë!” Katorn was drunk. He led the party in to the Central Chamber of the Warden’s palace where I and the king discussed further campaigns. “Erekosë—Rigenos, my lord king—
look
!”

The king looked at the girl with distaste. “Why should we take interest in an Eldren wanton? Get hence, Katorn and use her as you will—but be sure to slay her before we leave Paphanaal.”

“Why have you brought her, Katorn?” said I.

Katorn laughed. His thick lips opened wide and he laughed in our faces. “You know not who she is, that’s plain.”

“Take the Eldren wench away, Katorn,” said the king, his voice rising.

“My lord king—this is Ermizhad!”

“What?” The king leaned forward and stared at the girl. “Ermizhad, the Wanton of the Ghost Worlds. She’s lured many a mortal to his death so I’ve heard. She shall die by torture for her lustful crimes. The stake shall have her.”

“No, King Rigenos—forget you not that she’s Prince Arjavh’s
sister
?”

“Of course. You did right Katorn. Keep her prisoner, keep her safe.” He looked at the swaying captain, noting his drunkenness. “No—enjoy yourself, Katorn. She shall be put in Erekosë’s charge.”

“I accept the charge,” I said, taking my chance. I had pity for the girl, whatever terrible crimes she had committed.

“Keep her from harm, Erekosë,” said the king cynically, eyeing the girl. “Keep her from harm—she’ll be a useful piece in our game with Arjavh.”

“Take her to my apartments in the east wing,” I told the guards, “and make sure she is kept there, unmolested.” They took her away.

I understood her usefulness as a hostage, but had not understood the king’s reference to the Ghost Worlds. I remembered, then, that once before he had mentioned them.

“The Ghost Worlds?” he said when I questioned him. “Know you not of them, Erekosë? Why humankind fear Arjavh’s allies so much that they will rarely mention them, in terror of conjuring them up by their words.”

“But what are they?”

Rigenos looked around him nervously. “I’ll tell you,” he said, “but I’m uncomfortable about doing so in this cursed place. The Eldren know better than we what the Ghost Worlds are—we had thought, at first, that you yourself were a prisoner there. They lie beyond Time, beyond Space, linked to this Earth by tenuous bonds.” His voice dropped, but he whispered on and I shuddered at what he told me.

“There, on the torn Ghost Worlds, dwell the many-coiled serpents which are the terror and the scourge of the eight dimensions. Here, also, live ghosts and men, those who are manlike and those who are unlike men, those who know their fate which is to live without time, and those who are unaware of their doom. And there, also, do kinfolk to the Eldren dwell—the halflings.”

“But what
are
these worlds?” I asked impatiently.

“They are the worlds to which human sorcerers go in search of alien wisdom, and from which they draw helpers of horrible powers and disgusting deeds. It is said that within those worlds an initiate may meet his long-slain comrades who may sometimes help him, his dead loves and kin, and particularly his enemies—those whom he has caused to die. Malevolent enemies with great powers—or wretches who are half-souled and incomplete.”