Karl Edward Wagner - The Gothic Touch

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THE GOTHIC TOUCH

Karl Edward Wagner

Night was gathering too rapidly. Lightning was flickering across a leaden sky.

Sounds of distant thunder were no longer so distant. Dark-winged birds were

streaking across the sky for cover. Elric sniffed the air, pushed the white

hair from his face. His horse was restless beneath his thighs.

Moonglum watched the horizon unhappily. They had been riding all day.

Thus far they had eluded human pursuit, but the storm was quickly overtaking

them. “We’ll have to find some sort of shelter soon.”

“They won’t seek shelter.” Elric searched his memory. He was uncertain

of landmarks in this part of the land they fled across, but he remem-bered

talk of a ruined castle, supposedly haunted. That sort of legend might hold

off interlopers, and if it came down to it, better to make a stand behind

walls than to be hunted down like a fox.

Thunder drew closer. Neither Elric nor Moonglum heard the blast as

lightning tore apart the earth close behind them. It was enough to hold saddle

as their panic-stricken horses plunged headlong through the sudden torrent.

“There!” shouted Elric. The lightning-blasted sky revealed stone walls

ahead. He and Moonglum fought to control their horses, somehow galloping into

the walled enclosure through its breached gate.

“There’s a light!” Moonglum pointed as they crossed the courtyard. Elric

smelled smoke through the drenched wind. Most of the interior structure was

still standing, albeit gutted. What appeared to have been the castle itself

had retained some of its roof. A fire could he seen through its open doorway.

Lightning crashed again. Elric and Moonglum rode their horses through

the castle doorway, caring not who might challenge them. The interior was

reasonably dry, if musty from long disuse. There was a good fire burning on

the massive hearth. There was a broken table set with food and wine. There was

no one present.

“Isn’t this castle supposed to be haunted?” Moonglum was searching the

shadows of the cavernous room. Little remained except ruin, rotted tapestries,

crumbling furnishings. Whoever had overthrown the castle had not stayed to

loot it.

“All ruined castles are haunted,” said Elric, dismounting. “At least to

the popular mind. Now tether our horses. Someone abides here, and we’ll share

this fire.”

As Moonglum saw to their mounts, Elric shook off his cloak and warmed

himself at the fire. The thin albino had little tolerance for the drenching,

cold night. He considered the food and drink upon the table. Three settings.

Cheese, bread, cold fowl, some apples, wine and—Elric delicately sniffed the

bottle—brandy. He poured some of the brandy into a chalice of ruby glass. He

could not identify its place of origin, but it was of excellent quality, and

it warmed him.

Moonglum returned from the horses and almost struck away the chalice.

“There might be poison!”

“Who knew that I would be here?” Elric was exhausted after almost two

days on the run. He broke off a bit of bread. “Try the fowl, Moonglum, and

tell me if it’s poisoned.”

“Three places are set,” Moonglum pointed out. “Yet no one is here.

And where do you find fresh apples at this season? I tell you, this castle ‘

is haunted.”

“That fire is freshly laid,” said Elric. “Our hosts are other travellers

seeking shelter for the night. As the storm struck, they dashed away to see to

their horses and goods. I’m certain they will join us soon.”

The storm winds were moaning so furiously through the broken apertures

of the castle that at first Elric did not notice the faint moan of

Stormbringer.

Elric glanced toward the empty doorway, laying his hand upon the hilt of

the runesword.

Lightning set fire to the night. The doorway was no longer empty.

It was a man, almost too large for a man, clad in mail, leather breeks

and high boots, and a flapping black cloak. His long red hair was torn by the

wind despite the rain. His eyes seemed to glow with cold blue fire in the

burst of lightning. In his left hand he carried a long sword; in his right

hand he held a human head.

Lightning faded.

Elric drew Stormbringer.

The man was already beside the fire.

“We both like dramatic entrances,” said the man. He held the severed

head to the light. “Know him?”

Elric looked carefully. “That’s Duke Breidnor. He and his men are

hunting me.”

“Well, now he’s not.” The man wiped his sword free of remaining blood

and sheathed it behind his shoulder. “And you can put away Stormbringer.

What’s left of Breidnor’s henchmen are fleeing homeward. I left a few of their

bodies outside the walls. Doubt the rest will try it again. In fact, I know

they won’t. I hope you haven’t finished that brandy. We have a long night.”

He poured a chalice of brandy for himself as Elric regarded him

uncertainly. His hair and beard were red, his features somewhat brutal, and

there was something very disturbing about his blue eyes. Elric judged his

height at about six feet, and his weight had to be enormous for that mass of

muscle—yet he moved like a cat. Elric sheathed Stormbringer.

“Good decision,” said the stranger, sipping the brandy. “And now,

Moonglum, please put away your sword and do something with that head. Just

don’t lob it into the fire. I’ve already set out a cold dinner.”

He dropped down onto one of the remaining chairs. It creaked, but held

his weight. “About as solid as the Ruby Throne, don’t you think, Elric?”

Elric found another chair and some brandy. He was tired, and things were

happening too fast. “Who are you, and where are you from?”

“I’m Kane, and I’m not from around here.”

“Where are your men?”

“I’m alone.”

“How did you manage to kill Duke Breidnor and his soldiers if you were

alone?”

“I kill things. That’s what I was created to do. I’m rather good at it.”

“Are you from Arioch?”

“Only a nodding acquaintance.”

Elric lowered his chalice in annoyance. The man was either mad or

playing with words; his accent was not one Elric could place. Nonetheless,

this Kane had brought him the head of his enemy.

Elric turned his pink eyes full into Kane’s cold blue gaze. He felt a

sudden chill throughout his body. “Are you a demon?” Elric had not meant to

speak the thought aloud.

“Something far worse,” said Kane.

“How do you know me?”

Kane tore off a wing and began to eat it with some show of appetite. “By

Stormbringer. Not to say that you do have certain distinctive features.

Moonglum, stop pacing about and join us.”

Elric closed his eyes and concentrated. There was an aura about this man

which he could not penetrate. And yet...

“You are neither of Law nor Chaos.”

“Correct. Slice of breast?”

“You are not of this world.”

“I’ve already told you that. More brandy?”

“You raised a storm and drew us here. Then you killed my enemy.”

“And just in time. Don’t forget the dinner.”

Elric angrily leapt to his feet, drawing Stormbringer. “Friend or not, I

won’t be trifled with—and I’m tired of your riddles!”

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Karl Edward Wagner - The Gothic Touch

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