Michael Moorcock - Elric 3 - The Weird of the White Wolf

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ProloguePrologue

THE DREAM OF EARL AUBEC

In which we learn something of how the-

Age of the Young Kingdoms emerged

and of the part played by the Dark Lady,

Myshella, whose fate would later be in-

tertwined with that of Elric of Melnibone

From the glassless window of the stone tower it was

possible to see the wide river winding off between

loose, brown banks, through the heaped terrain of

solid green copses which blended very gradually into

the mass of the forest proper. And out of the forest,

the cliff rose, grey and light-green, up and up, the

rock darkening, lichen-covered, to merge with the

lower, and even more massive, stones of the castle. It

was the castle which dominated the countryside in

three directions, drawing the eye from river, rock, or

forest. Its walls were high and of thick granite, with

towers; a dense field of towers, grouped so as to

shadow one another.

Aubec of Malador marveled and wondered how

human builders could ever have constructed it, save

by sorcery. Brooding and mysterious, the castle

seemed to have a defiant air, for it stood on the very

edge of the world.

At this moment the lowering sky cast a strange,

deep-yellow light against the western sides of the

towers, intensifying the blackness untouched by it.

Huge billows of blue sky rent the general racing

greyness above, and mounds of red cloud crept

through to blend and produce more and subtler

colourings. Yet, though the sky was impressive, it

could not take the gaze away from the ponderous

series of man-made crags that were Castle Kaneloon.

Earl Aubec of Malador did not turn from the win-

dow until it was completely dark outside; forest,

cliff, and castle but shadowy tones against the overall

blackness. He passed a heavy, knotted hand over his

almost bald scalp and thoughtfully went towards the

heap of straw which was his intended bed.

The straw was piled in a niche created by a

buttress and the outer wall and the room was well-

lighted by Malador's lantern. But the air was cold as

he lay down on the straw with his hand dose to the

two-handed broadsword of prodigious size. This was

his only weapon. It looked as if it had been forged

for a giant--Malador was virtually that himself--with

its wide crosspiece and heavy, stone-encrusted hilt

and five-foot blade, smooth and broad. Beside it was

Malador's old, heavy armour, the casque balanced on

top with its somewhat tattered black plumes waving

slightly in a current of air from the window.

Malador slept.

His dreams, as usual, were turbulent: of mighty

armies surging across the blazing landscapes, curling

banners bearing the blazons of a hundred nations,

forests of shining lance-tips, seas of tossing helmets,

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the brave, wild blasts of the war-horns, the clatter of

hooves, and the songs and cries and shouts of sol

diers. These were dreams of earlier times, of his

youth when, for Queen Eloarde of Klant, he had

conquered all the Southern nations--almost to the

edge of the world. Only Kaneloon, on the very edge,

had he not conquered, and this because no army

would follow him there.

For one of so martial an appearance, these dreams

were surprisingly unwelcome, and Malador woke

several times that night, shaking his head in an at-

tempt to rid himself of them.

He would rather have dreamed of Eloarde,

though she was the cause of his restlessness, but he

saw nothing of her in his sleep; nothing of her soft,

black hair that billowed around her pale face, noth-

ing of her green eyes and red lips and her proud,

disdainful posture. Eloarde had assigned him to this

quest and he had not gone willingly, though he had

no choice, for as well as his mistress she was also his

Queen. The Champion was traditionally her lover--

and it was unthinkable to Earl Aubec that any other

condition should exist. It was his place, as Champion

of Klant, to obey and go forth from her palace to

seek Castle Kaneloon alone and conquer it and de-

clare it part of her Empire, so that it could be said

Queen Eloarde's domain stretched from the Dragon

Sea to World's Edge.

Nothing lay beyond World's Edge--nothing save

the swirling stuff of unformed Chaos which stretched

away from the Cliffs of Kaneloon for eternity, roiling

and broiling, multicoloured, full of monstrous half-

shapes--for Earth alone was Lawful and constituted

of ordered matter, drifting in the sea of Chaos-stuff

as it had done for aeons.

In the morning, Earl Aubec of Malador extin-

guished the lantern which he had allowed to remain

alight, drew greaves and hauberk on to him, placed

his black plumed helm upon his head, put his broad-

sword over his shoulder and sallied out of the stone

tower which was all that remained whole of some an-

cient edifice.

His leathern-shod feet stumbled over stones that

seemed partially dissolved, as if Chaos had once

lapped here instead of against the towering Cliffs of

Kaneloon. That, of course, was quite impossible,

since Earth's boundaries were known to be constant.

Castle Kaneloon had seemed closer the night be-

fore and that, he now realised, was, because it was so

huge. He followed the river, his feet sinking in the

loamy soil, the great branches of the trees shading

him from the increasingly hot sun as he made his

way towards the cliffs. Kaneloon was now out of

sight, high above him. Every so often he used his

sword as an axe to clear his way through the places

where the foliage was particularly thick.

He rested several times, drinking the cold water of

the river and mopping his face and head. He was

unhurried, he had no wish to visit Kaneloon, he

resented the interruption to his life with Eloarde

which he thought he had earned. Also he, too, had a

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superstitious dread of the mysterious castle, which

was said to be inhabited only by one human occu-

pant-the Dark Lady, a sorceress without mercy who

commanded a legion of demons and other Chaos crea-

tures.

He regarded the cliffs at midday and regarded the

path leading upward with a mixture of wariness and

relief. He had expected to have to scale the cliffs. He

was not one, however, to take a difficult route where

an easy one presented itself, so he looped a cord

around his sword and slung it over his back, since it

was too long and cumbersome to carry at his side.

Then, still in bad humour, he began to climb the

twisting path.

The lichen-covered rocks were evidently ancient,

contrary to the speculations of certain philosophers

who asked why Kaneloon had only been heard of a

few generations since. Malador believed in the gen-

eral answer to this question--that explorers had

never ventured this far until fairly recently. He

glanced back down the path and saw the tops of the

trees below him, their foliage moving slightly in the

breeze. The tower in which he'd spent the night was

just visible in the distance and, beyond that, he

knew, there was no civilisation, no outpost of Man

for many days' journey North, East, or West-can

Chaos lay to the South? He had never been so close

to the edge of the world before and wondered how

the sight of unformed matter would affect his brain.

At length he clambered to the top of the cliff and

stood, arms akimbo, staring up at Castle Kaneloon

which soared a mile away, its highest towers hidden

in the clouds, its immense walls rooted on the rock

and stretching away, limited on both sides only by

the edge of the cliff. And, on the other side of the

cliff, Malador watched the churning, leaping Chaos-

substance, predominantly grey, blue, brown, and

yellow at this moment, though its colours changed

constantly, spew like the sea-spray a few feet from the

castle.

He became filled with a feeling of such indescrib-

able profundity that he could only remain in this

position for a long while, completely overwhelmed

by a sense of his own insignificance. It came to him,

eventually, that if anyone did dwell in the Castle

Kaneloon, then they must have a robust mind or else

must be insane, and then he sighed and strode on

towards his goal, noting that the ground was per-

fectly flat, without blemish, green, obsidian, and re-

flecting imperfectly the dancing Chaos-stuff from

which he averted his eyes as much as he could.

Kaneloon had many entrances, all dark and unwel-

coming, and had they all not been of regular size

and shape they might have been so many cave-

mouths.

Malador paused before choosing which to take,

and then walked with outward purposefulness

towards one. He went into blackness which appeared

to stretch away forever. It was cold; it was empty and

he was alone.

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He was soon lost. His footsteps made no echo,

which was unexpected; then the blackness began to

give way to a series of angular outlines, like the

walls of a twisting corridor--walls which did not

reach the unsensed roof, but ended several yards

above his head: It was a labyrinth, a maze. He

paused and looked back and saw with horror that

the maze wound off in many directions, though he

was sure he had followed a straight path from the

outside.

For an instant, his mind became diffused and

madness threatened to engulf him, but he battened

it down, unslung his sword, shivering. Which way?

He pressed on, unable to tell, now, whether he went

forward or backward.

The madness lurking in the depths of his brain

filtered out and became fear and, immediately fol-

lowing the sensation of fear, came the shapes. Swift-

moving shapes, darting from several different direc-

tions, gibbering, fiendish, utterly horrible.

One of these creatures kept at him and he struck

at it with his blade. It fled, but seemed unwounded.

Another came and another and he forgot his panic as

he smote around him, driving them back until all

had fled. He paused and leaned, panting, on his

sword. Then, as he stared around him, the fear be-

gan to flood back into him and more creatures ap-

peared-creatures with wide, blazing eyes and

clutching talons, creatures with malevolent faces,

mocking him, creatures with half-familiar faces,

some recognisable as those of old friends and rela-

tives, yet twisted into horrific parodies. He screamed

and ran at them, whirling his huge sword, slashing,

hacking at them, rushing past one group to turn a

bend in the labyrinth and encounter another.

Malicious laughter coursed through the twisting

corridors, following him and preceding him as he

ran. He stumbled and fell against a wall. At first the

wall seemed of solid stone, then, slowly it became

soft and he sank through it, his body lying half in

one corridor, half in another. He hauled himself

through, still on hands and knees, looked up and saw

Eloarde, but an Eloarde whose face grew old as he

watched.

"I am mad," he thought. "Is this reality or fantasy--

or both?"

He reached out a hand, "Eloarde"

She vanished but was replaced by a crowding

horde of demons. He raised himself to his feet and

flailed around him with his blade, but they skipped

outside his range and he roared at them as he ad-

vanced. Momentarily, while he thus exerted himself,

the fear left him again and, with the disappearance

of the fear, so the visions vanished until he realised

that the fear preceded the manifestations and he tried

to control it.

He almost succeeded, forcing himself to relax, but

it welled up again and the creatures bubbled out of

the walls, their shrill voices full of malicious mirth.

This time he did not attack them with his sword,

but stood his ground as calmly as he could and

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concentrated upon his own mental condition. As he

did so, the creatures began to fade away and then

the walls of the labyrinth dissolved and it seemed to

him that he stood in a peaceful valley, calm and idyl-

lic. Yet, hovering close to his consciousness, he

seemed to see the walls of the labyrinth faintly out-

lined, and disgusting shapes moving here and there

along the many passages.

He realised that the vision of the valley was as

much an illusion as the labyrinth and, with this con-

clusion, both valley and labyrinth faded and he

stood in the enormous hall of a castle which could

only be Kaneloon.

The hall was unoccupied though well-furnished,

and he could not see the source of the light, which

was bright and even. He strode towards a table, on

which were heaped scrolls, and his feet made a satis-

fying echo. Several great metal-studded doors led off

from the hall, but for the moment he did not investi-

gate them, intent on studying the scrolls and seeing

if they could help him unravel Kaneloon's mystery.

He propped his sword against the table and took

up the first scroll.

It was a beautiful thing of red vellum, but the

black letters upon it meant nothing to him and he

was astounded for, though dialects varied from place

to place, there was only one language in all the lands

of the Earth. Another scroll bore different symbols

still, and a third he unrolled carried a series of highly

stylised pictures which were repeated here and there

so that he guessed they formed some kind of alphabet.

Disgusted, he flung the scroll down, picked up his

sword, drew an immense breath, and shouted:

'Who dwells here? Let them know that Aubec,

Earl of Malador, Champion of Klant and Conqueror

of the South claims this castle in the name of Queen

Eloarde, Empress of all the Southlands

In shouting these familiar words, he felt somewhat

more comfortable, but he received no reply. He

lifted his casque a trifle and scratched his neck.

Then he picked up his sword, balanced it over his

shoulder, and made for the largest door.

Before he reached it, it sprang open and a huge,

manlike thing with hands like grappling irons

grinned at him.

He took a pace backward and then another until,

seeing that the thing did not advance, stood his

ground observing it.

It was a foot or so taller than he, with oval, multi-

faceted eyes that, by their nature, seemed blank. Its

face was angular and had a grey, metallic sheen.

Most of its body was comprised of burnished metal,

jointed in the manner of armour. Upon its head was

a tight-fitting hood, studded with brass. It had about

it an air of tremendous and insensate power, though

it did not move.

A golem Malador exclaimed for it seemed to

him that he remembered such man-made creatures

from legends. 'What sorcery created you'

The golem did not reply but its hands--which

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were in reality comprised of four spikes of metal

apiece--began slowly to flex themselves; and still the

golem grinned.

This thing, Malador knew, did not have the same

amorphous quality of his earlier visions. This was

solid, this was real and strong, and even Malador's

manly strength, however much he exerted it, could

not defeat such a creature. Yet neither could he turn

away.

With a scream of metal joints, the golem entered

the hall and stretched its burnished hands towards

the earl.

Malador could attack or flee, and fleeing would be

senseless. He attacked.

His great sword clasped in both hands, he swung

it sideways at the golem's torso, which seemed to be

its weakest point. The golem lowered an arm and

the sword shuddered against metal with a mighty

clang that set the whole of Malador's body quaking.

He stumbled backward. Remorselessly, the golem

followed him.

Malador looked back and searched the hall in the

hope of finding a weapon more powerful than his

sword, but saw only shields of an ornamental kind

upon the wall to his right. He turned and ran to the

wall, wrenching one of the shields from its place and

slipping it on to his arm. It was an oblong thing,

very light, and comprising several layers of cross-

grained wood. It was inadequate, but it made him

feel a trifle better as he whirled again to face the go-

lem.

The golem advanced, and Malador thought he

noticed something familiar about it, just as the

demons of the labyrinth had seemed familiar, but

the impression was only vague. Kaneloon's weird sor-

cery was affecting his mind, he decided.

The creature raised the spikes on its right arm

and aimed a swift blow at Malador's head. He

avoided it, putting Up his sword as protection. The

spikes clashed against the sword and then the left

arm pistoned forward, driving at Malador's stomach.

The shield stopped his blow, though the spikes

pierced it deeply. He yanked the buckler off the

spikes, slashing at the golem's leg-joints as he did so.

Still staring into the middle-distance, with ap-

parently no real interest in Malador, the golem ad-

vanced like a blind man as the earl turned and leapt

on to the table, scattering the scrolls. Now he

brought his huge sword down upon the golem's

skull, and the brass studs sparked and the hood and

head beneath it was dented. The golem staggered

and then grasped the table, heaving it off the floor so

that Malador was forced to leap to the ground. This

time he made for the door and tugged at its latch-

ring, but the door would not open.

His sword was chipped and blunted. He put his

back to the door as the golem reached him and

brought its metal hand down on the top edge of the

shield. The shield shattered and a dreadful pain shot

up Malador's arm. He lunged at the golem, but he

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was unused to handling the big sword in this manner

and the stroke was clumsy.

Malador knew that he was doomed. Force and

fighting skill were not enough against the golem's in-

sensate strength. At the golem's next blow he swung

aside, but was caught by one of its spike-fingers

which ripped through his armour and drew blood,

though at that moment he felt no pain.

He scrambled up, shaking away the grip and frag-

ments of wood which remained of the shield, grasp-

ing his sword firmly.

"The soulless demon has no weak spot," he

thought, "and since it has no true intelligence, it can-

not be appealed to. What would a golem fear?"

The answer was simple. The golem would only

fear something as strong or stronger than itself.

He must use cunning.

He ran for the upturned table with the golem

after him, leaped over the table and wheeled as the

golem stumbled but did not, as he'd hoped, fall. How-

ever, the golem was slowed by its encounter, and Au-

bec took advantage of this to rush for the door

through which the golem had entered. It opened.

He was in a twisting corridor, darkly shadowed, not

unlike the labyrinth he had first found in Kaneloon.

The door closed, but he could find nothing to bar it

with. He ran up the corridor as the golem tore the

door open and came lumbering swiftly after him.

The corridor writhed about in all directions, and,

though he could not always see the golem, he could

hear it and had the sickening fear that he would

turn a corner at some stage and run straight into it.

He did not--but he came to a door and, upon open-

ing it and passing through it, found himself again in

the hall of Castle Kaneloon.

He almost welcomed this familiar sight as he

heard the golem, its metal parts screeching, continue

to come after him. He needed another shield, but

the part of the hall in which he now found himself

had no wall-shields--only a large, round mirror of

bright, clear-polished metal. It would be too heavy

to be much use, but he seized it, tugging it from its

hook. It fell with a clang and he hauled it up, drag-

ging it with him as he stumbled away from the go

lem which had emerged into the room once more.

Using the chains by which the mirror had hung,

he gripped it before him and, as the golem's speed

increased and the monster rushed upon him, he

raised this makeshift shield.

The golem shrieked.

Malador was astounded. The monster stopped

dead and cowered away from the mirror. Malador

pushed it towards the golem and the thing turned its

back and fled, with a metallic howl, through the door

it had entered by.

Relieved and puzzled, Malador sat down on the

floor and studied the mirror. There was Certainly

nothing magical about it, though its quality was

good. He grinned and said aloud:

'The creature’s afraid of something. It is afraid of

itself'

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He threw back his head and laughed loudly in his

relief. Then he frowned. 'Now to find the sorcerers

who created him and take vengeance on them' He

pushed himself to his feet, twisted the chains of the

mirror more securely about his arm and went to an-

other door, concerned lest the golem complete its cir-

cuit of the maze and return through the door. This

door would not budge, so he lifted his sword and

hacked at the latch for a few moments until it gave.

He strode into a well-lit passage with what appeared

to be another room at its far end--the door open.

A musky scent came to his nostrils as he progressed

along the passage--the scent that reminded him of

Eloarde and the comforts of Klant.

When he reached the circular chamber, he saw

that it was a bedroom -- a woman's bedroom full of

the perfume he had smelled in the passage. He con-

trolled the direction his mind took, thought of loy-

alty and Klant, and went to another door which led

off from the room. He lugged it open and discovered

a stone staircase winding upward. This he mounted,

passing windows that seemed glazed with emerald or

ruby, beyond which shadow-shapes flickered so that

he knew he was on the side of the castle overlooking

Chaos.

The staircase seemed to lead up into a tower, and

when he finally reached the small door at its top he

was feeling out of breath and paused before enter-

ing. Then he pushed the door open and went in.

A huge window was set in one wall, a window of

clear glass through which he could see the ominous

stuff of Chaos leaping. A woman stood by this win-

dow as if awaiting him.

'You are indeed a champion, Earl Aubec,' said she

with a smile that might have been ironic.

'How do you know my name?'

'No sorcery gave it me, Earl of Malador -- you

shouted it loudly enough when you first saw the hall

in its true shape.'

'Was not that, then, sorcery,' he said ungraciously,

'the labyrinth, the demons--even the valley? Was not

the golem made by sorcery? Is not this whole cursed

castle of a sorcerous nature?'

She shrugged. 'Gall it so if you'd rather not have

the truth. Sorcery, in your mind at least, is a crude

thing which only hints at the true powers existing in

the universe.'

He did not reply, being somewhat impatient of

such statements. He had learned, by observing the

philosophers of Klant, that mysterious words often

disguised commonplace things and ideas. Instead, he

looked at her sulkily and over-frankly.

She was fair, with green-blue eyes and a light com-

plexion. Her long robe was of a similar colour to her

eyes. She was, in a secret sort of way, very beautiful

as the heroes who had earlier won over the dangers

of Kaneloon. And then, she thought, she knew what

to say.

'Think, Earl Aubec,' she whispered. 'Think--new

lands for your queen's Empire!'

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He frowned.

'Why not extend the Empire's boundaries farther?'

"she continued. 'Why not make new territories?'

She watched him anxiously as he took off his helm

and scratched his heavy, bald head. 'You have made

a point at last,' he said dubiously.

'Think of the honours you would receive in Klant

if you succeeded in winning not merely Kaneloon--

but that which lies beyond!'

Now he rubbed is chin. 'Aye,' he said, 'Aye . .:

His great brows frowned deeply.

'New plains, new mountains, new seas-new popu-

lations, even--whole cities full of people fresh-sprung

and yet with the memory of generations of ancestors

behind them! All this can be done by you, Earl of

Malador--for Queen Eloarde and Lormyr!'

He smiled faintly, his imagination fired at last.

'Aye! If I can defeat such dangers here--then I can

do the same out there! It will be the greatest adven-

ture in history! My name will become a legend--

Malador, Master of Chaos!'

She gave him a tender look, though she had half-

cheated him.

He swung his sword up on to his shoulder,. 'I'll try

this, lady.'

She and he stood together at the window, watching

the Chaos-stuff whispering and rolling for eternity

before them. To her it had never been wholly famil-

lar, for it changed all the time. Now its tossing col-

ours were predominantly red and black. Tendrils of

mauve and orange spiralled out of this and writhed

away.

Weird shapes flitted about in it, their outlines

never clear, never quite recognisable.

He said to her: 'The Lords of Chaos rule this ter-

ritory. What will they have to say?'

'They can say nothing, do little. Even they have to

obey the Law of the Cosmic Balance which ordains

that if man can stand against Chaos, then it shall be

his to order and make Lawful. Thus the Earth

grows, slowly.'

'How do I enter it?"

She took the opportunity to grasp his heavily

muscled arm and point through the window. 'See--

there--a causeway leads down from this tower to the

cliff.' She glanced at him sharply. 'Do you see it?'

'Ah-yes--I had not, but now I do. Yes, a cause-

way.'

Standing behind him, she smiled a little to herself.

'I will remove the barrier,' she said.

He straightened his helm on his head. 'For Klant

and Eloarde and only those do I embark upon this

adventure.'

She moved towards the wall and raised the win-

dow. He did not look at her as he strode down the

causeway into the multicoloured mist.

As she watched him disappear, she smiled to her-

self. How easy it was to beguile the strongest man by

pretending to go his way! He might add lands to his

Empire, but he might find their populations un-

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willing to accept Eloarde as their Empress. In fact, if

Aubec did his work well, then he would be creating

more of a threat to Klant than ever Kaneloon had

been.

Yet she admired him, she was attracted to him,

perhaps, because he was not so accessible, a little

more than she had been to that earlier hero who had

claimed Aubec's own land from Chaos barely two

hundred years before. Oh, he had been a man! But

he, like most before him, had needed no other per-

suasion than the promise of her body.

Earl Aubec's weakness had lain in his strength, she

thought. By now he had vanished into the heaving

mists.

She felt a trifle sad that this time the execution of

the task given her by the Lords of Law had not

brought her the usual pleasure.

Yes perhaps, she thought, she felt a more subtle

pleasure in his steadfastness and the means she had

used to convince him.

For centuries had the Lords of Law entrusted her

with Kaneloon and its secrets. But the progress was

slow, for there were few heroes who could survive

Kaneloon's dangers--few who could defeat self-

created perils.

Yet, she decided with a slight smile on her lips,

the task had its various rewards. She moved into an-

other chamber to prepare for the transition of the

castle to the new edge of the world.

Thus were the seeds sewn of the Age of the Young

Kingdoms, the Age of Men, which was to produce

the downfall of Melnibone.

Book One

THE DREAMING CITY

Which tells how Elric came back to

Imrryr, what he did there, and how, at

last, his weird fell upon him . . .

ONE

"What's the hour?' The black-bearded man

wrenched off his gilded helmet and flung it from

him, careless of where it fell. He drew off his

leathern gauntlets and moved closer to the roaring

fire, letting the heat soak into his frozen bones.

'Midnight is long past,' growled one of the other

armoured men who gathered around the blaze. 'Are

you still sure he'll come?'

'It's said that he's a man of his word, if that com-

forts you.'

It was a tall, pale-faced youth who spoke. His thin

lips formed the words and spat them out mali-

ciously. He grinned a Wolf-grin and stared the new

arrival in the eyes, mocking him.

The newcomer turned away with a shrug. 'That's

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Michael Moorcock - Elric 3 - The Weird of the White Wolf

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