Michael Moorcock - The Eternal Champion

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The Eternal Champion

By Micheal Moorcock

IMMORTAL

'I will destroy the Eldren!' I cried and my voice echoed through the Great Hall like the voice of

a God. 'I will destroy the enemies of Humanity! With the Sword Kanajana I mil ride upon them with

vengeance and hatred and cruelty in my heart and I will vanquish the Eldren!'

From behind me now came a mighty shout: 'WE SHALL VANQUISH THE ELDREN!'

I, Erekosë, the Eternal, the Champion, The Vengeance Bringer-I led them. My arms were raised as if

I was already celebrating my victory. Pride filled me. I knew what Glory was and I relished it.

This was the way to live-as a warrior-a leader of great armies-a wielder of weapons.

Other titles in the story of the Champion Eternal published by

Mayflower Books are:

Elric Corum

THE STEALER OF SOULS THE QUEEN OF THE SWORDS

STORMBRINGER THE KNIGHT OF THE SWORDS

THE SINGING CITADEL THE KING OF THE SWORDS

The Chronicles of Castle Brass The Dancers at the End of Time

COUNT BRASS AN ALIEN HEAT

*THE CHAMPION OF GARATHORM THE HOLLOW LANDS

*THE QUEST FOR TANELORN

Erekosë Hawkmoon The History of the Runestaff

PHOENIX IN OBSIDIAN THE JEWEL IN THE SKULL

*THE CHAMPION OF GARATHORM THE MAD GOD'S AMULET

*THE QUEST FOR TANELORN THE SWORD OF THE DAWN

THE RUNESTAFF

Other titles available:

THE TIME DWELLER

THE WINDS OF LIMBO

THE SHORES OF DEATH

THE BLOOD-RED GAME

THE FINAL PROGRAMME

BEHOLD THE MAN

THE BLACK CORRIDOR

*Interconnected series

PROLOGUE

They called for me.

That is all I really know.

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They called for me and I went to them. I could not do otherwise. The will of the whole of humanity

was a strong thing. It smashed through the ties of time and the chains of space and dragged me to

itself.

Why was I chosen? I still do not know, though they thought they had told me. And now it is done

and I am here. I shall always be here and if, as wise men tell me, time is cyclic, then I shall

one day return to the part of the cycle I left and which I knew as the twentieth century A.D. in

the Age of Men, for (it was no doing or wish of mine) I am immortal.

CHAPTER ONE

A CALL ACROSS TIME

Between wakefulness and sleeping we have most of us had the illusion of hearing voices, scraps of

conversation, phrases spoken in unfamiliar tones. Sometimes we attempt to attune our minds so that

we can hear more, but we are rarely successful. These illusions are called hypnagogic

hallucinations-the beginning of the dreams we shall later experience as we sleep.

There was a woman. A child. A city. An occupation. A name: John Daker. A sense of frustration. A

need for fulfilment. Though I loved them. I know I loved them.

It was in the winter. I lay miserably in a cold bed and I stared through the window at the moon. I

do not remember my exact thoughts. Something to do with mortality and the futility of human

existence, no doubt. Then, between wakefulness and sleeping. I began every night to hear voices .

. .

At first I dismissed them, expecting to fall immediately asleep, but they continued, and I began

trying to listen to them, thinking, perhaps, to receive some message from my unconscious. But the

most commonly repeated word was gibberish to me:

Erekosë . . . Erekosë . . . Erekosë . . .

I could not recognise the language, though it had a peculiar familiarity. The closest language I

could place it with was the language of Sioux Indians, but I knew only a few words of Sioux.

Erekosë . . . Erekosë . . . Erekosë

Each night I redoubled my efforts to concentrate on the voices and gradually I began to experience

much stronger hypnagogic hallucinations, until one night it seemed that I broke free from my body

altogether.

* * *

Had I hung for an eternity in limbo? Was I alive-dead? Was there a memory of a world that lay in

the far past or the distant future? Of another world which seemed closer? And the names? Was I

John Daker or Erekosë? Was I either of these? Many other names-Corom Bannan Flurrun, Aubec, Elric,

Rackhir, Simon, Cornelius, Asquinol, Hawkmoon-fled away down the ghostly rivers of my memory. I

hung in darkness, bodiless. A man spoke. Where was he? I tried to look but had no eyes with which

to see . . .

* * *

'Erekosë the Champion, where are you?'

Another voice: 'Father . . . it is only a legend . . .'

'No, lolinda. I feel he is listening. Erekosë . . .'

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I tried to answer, but I had no tongue with which to speak.

Then there were swirling half-dreams of a house in a great city of miracles-a swollen, grimy city

of miracles, crammed with dull-coloured machines, many of which bore human passengers. There were

buildings, beautiful beneath their coatings of dust, and there were other, brighter buildings not

so beautiful, with austere lines and many windows. There were screams and loud noises.

There was a troop of riders galloping over an undulating countryside, flamboyant in armour of

lacquered gold, coloured pennants draped around their blood-encrusted lances. Their faces were

heavy with weariness.

Then there were more faces, many faces. Some of them I half-recognised. Others were completely

unfamiliar. Many of these were dressed in strange clothes. I saw a white-haired man in middle age.

He wore a tall, spiked crown of iron and diamonds upon his head. His mouth moved. He was speaking.

. .

'Erekosë. It is I-King Rigenos, Defender of Humanity . . .

'You are needed again, Erekosë. The Hounds of Evil rule a third of the world and humankind is

weary with the war against them. Come to us, Erekosë. Lead us to victory. From the Plains of

Melting Ice to the Mountains of Sorrow they have set up their corrupt standard and I fear they

will advance yet further into our territories.

'Come to us, Erekosë. Lead us to victory. Come to us Erekosë. Lead us . . .'

The woman's voice:

'Father. This is only an empty tomb. Not even the mummy of Erekosë remains. It became drifting

dust long ago. Let us leave and return to Necranal to marshal the living peers!'

* * *

I felt like a fainting man who strives to fight against dizzy oblivion but, however much he tries,

cannot take control of his own brain. Again I tried to answer, but could not.

It was as if I wavered backwards through Time, while every atom of me wanted to go forward. I had

the sensation of vast size, as if I were made of stone with eyelids of granite that measured miles

across-eyelids which I could not open.

And then I was tiny: the most minute grain in the universe. And yet I felt I belonged to the whole

far more than did the stone giant.

Memories came and went.

The whole panorama of the twentieth century, its discoveries and its deceits, its beauties and its

bitterness, its satisfactions, its strifing, its self-delusion, its superstitious fancies that it

gave the name of Science, rushed into my mind like air into a vacuum.

But it was only momentary, for the next second my entire being was flung elsewhere-to a world

which was Earth, but not the Earth of John Daker, not quite the world of dead Erekosë . . .

There were three great continents, two close together, divided from the other by a vast sea

containing many islands, large and small.

I saw an ocean of ice which I knew to be slowly shrinking-the Plains of Melting Ice.

I saw the third continent which bore lush flora, mighty forests, blue lakes, and which was bound

along its northern coasts by a towering chain of mountains-the Mountains of Sorrow. This I knew to

be the domain of the Eldren, whom King Rigenos had called the Hounds of Evil.

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Now, on the other two continents, I saw the wheatlands of the West on the continent of Zavara,

with their tall cities of multicoloured rock, their rich cities-Stalaco, Calodemia, Mooros,

Ninadoon and Dratarda.

There were the great seaports-Shilaal, Wedmah, Sinana, Tarkar-and Noonos with her towers cobbled

in precious stones.

Then I saw the fortress cities of the continent of Necralala, with the capital city Necranal chief

among them, built on, into and about a mighty mountain, peaked by the spreading palace of its

warrior kings.

Now I began to remember as, in the background of my awareness, I heard a voice calling Erekosë,

Erekosë, Erekosë . . .

The warrior kings of Necranal, kings for two thousand years of a humanity united, at war and

united again. The warrior kings of whom King Rigenos was the last living-and ageing now, with only

a daughter, lolinda, to carry on his line. Old and weary with hate-but still hating. Hating the

unhuman folk whom he called the Hounds of Evil, mankind's age-old enemies, reckless and wild;

linked, it was said, by a thin line of blood to the human race-an outcome of a union between an

ancient Queen and the Evil One, Azmobaana. Hated by King Rigenos as soulless immortals, slaves of

Azmobaana's machinations.

And, hating, he called upon John Daker, whom he named Erekosë, to aid him with his war against

them.

'Erekosë, I beg thee answer me. Are you ready to come?' His voice was loud and echoing and when,

after a struggle, I could reply, my own voice seemed to echo, also.

'I am ready,' I replied, 'but seem to be chained . . .'

'Chained?' There was consternation in his voice. 'Are you, then, a prisoner of Azmobaana's

frightful minions? Are you trapped upon the Ghost Worlds?'

'Perhaps,' I said. 'But I do not think so. It is Space and Time which chain me. I am separated

from you by a gulf without form or dimension . . .'

'How may we bridge that gulf and bring you to us?'

'The united walls of humanity may serve the purpose.'

'Already we pray that you may come to us.'

'Then continue,' I said.

I was falling away again. I thought I remembered laughter, sadness, pride. Then, suddenly, more

faces. I felt as if I witnessed the passing of everyone I had known, down the ages, and then one

face superimposed itself over the others-the head and shoulders of an amazingly beautiful woman,

with blonde hair piled beneath a diadem of precious stones which seemed to light the sweetness of

her oval face. 'lolinda,' I said.

I saw her more solidly now. She was clinging to the arm of the tall, gaunt man who wore the crown

of iron and diamonds. King Rigenos.

They stood before an empty platform of quartz and gold and, resting on a cushion of dust, was a

straight sword which they dared not touch. Neither did they dare step too close to it, for it gave

off a radiation which might slay them.

It was a tomb in which they stood.

The Tomb of Erekosë. My tomb.

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I moved towards the platform, hanging over it.

Ages before, my body had been placed there. I stared at the sword which held no dangers for me,

but I was unable in my captivity to pick it up. It was my spirit only which inhabited that dark

place-but the whole of my spirit now, not the fragment which had inhabited the tomb for thousands

of years. That fragment had heard King Rigenos and had enabled John Daker to hear it, to come to

it; to be united with it.

'Erekosë!' called the king, straining his eyes through the gloom as if he had seen me. 'Erekosë!

We pray.'

Then I experienced the dreadful pain which I supposed must be like that of a woman experiencing

child-birth. A pain that seemed eternal and yet was intrinsically its own vanquisher. I was

screaming, writhing in the air above them. Great spasms of agony-but an agony complete with

purpose-the purpose of creation.

I shrieked. But there was joy in my cry.

I groaned, But there was triumph there.

I grew heavy and I reeled. I grew heavier and heavier, and I gasped, stretching out my arms to

balance myself.

I had flesh and I had muscle and I had blood and I had strength. The strength coursed through me

and I took a huge breath and touched my body. It was a powerful body and tall and fit.

I looked up. I stood before them in the flesh. I was their God and I had returned.

'I have come,' I said. 'I am here, King Rigenos. I have left nothing worth while behind me, but do

not let me regret that leaving.'

'You will not regret it, Champion.' He was pale, exhilarated, smiling. I looked at lolinda who

dropped her eyes modestly and then, as if against her will, raised them again to regard me. I

turned to the dais on my right. 'My sword,' I said, reaching for it. I heard King Rigenos sigh

with satisfaction. 'They are doomed now, the dogs,' he said.

CHAPTER TWO

'THE CHAMPION HAS COME!'

They had a sheath for the sword. It had been made days before. King Rigenos left to get it,

leaving me alone with his daughter.

Now that I was here, I did not think to question how I came and why it should have been possible.

Neither, it seemed, did she question the fact. I was there. It seemed inevitable.

We regarded one another silently until the king returned with the scabbard.

'This will protect us against your sword's poison,' he said.

He held it out to me and for a moment I hesitated before stretching my own hand towards it and

accepting it.

The king frowned and looked at the ground. Then he folded his arms across his chest.

I held the scabbard in my two hands. It was opaque, like old glass, but the metal was unfamiliar

to me-or rather to John Daker. It was light, flexible and strong.

I turned and picked up the sword. The handle was bound in gold thread and was vibrant to my touch.

The pommel was a globe of deep onyx and the hilt was worked in strips of silver and black onyx.

The blade was long and straight and sharp, but it did not shine like steel. Instead, in colour, it

resembled lead. The sword was beautifully balanced and I swung it through the air and laughed

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aloud, and it seemed to laugh with me.

'Erekosë! Sheath it!' cried King Rigenos in alarm. 'Sheath it! The radiation is death to all but

yourself!'

I was reluctant, now, to put the sword away. The feel of it awakened a dim remembrance . . .

'Erekosë! Please! I beg you!' lolinda's voice echoed her father's. 'Sheath the sword!'

Reluctantly I slid the sword into its scabbard. Why was I the only one who could wear the sword

without being affected by its radiation?

Was it because, in that transition from my own age to this, I had become constitutionally

different in some way? Was it that the ancient Erekosë and the unborn John Daker (or was it vice

versa?) had metabolisms which had adapted to protect themselves against the power which flowed

from the sword?

I shrugged. It did not matter. The fact itself was enough. I was unconcerned. It was as if I was

aware that my fate had been taken out of my hands to a large extent. I had become a tool. . .

If only I had known then to what use the tool would be put, then I might have fought against the

pull and remained the harmless intellectual, John Daker. But perhaps I could not have fought and

won. The power that drew me to this Age was very great.

At any rate, I was prepared at that moment to do whatever Fate demanded of me. I stood there,

where I had materialised, in the Tomb of Erekosë', and I revelled in my strength and in my sword.

Later, things were to change.

'I will need clothes,' I said, for I was naked. 'And armour. And a steed. I am Erekosë.'

'Clothes have been prepared,' said King Rigenos. He clapped his hands. 'Here.'

The slaves entered. One carried a robe, another a cloak, another a white cloth which I gathered

had to serve for underwear. They wrapped the cloth around my lower quarters and slipped the robe

over my head. It was loose and cool and felt pleasant on my skin. It was deep blue, with

complicated designs stitched into it in gold, silver and scarlet thread, The cloak was scarlet,

with designs of gold, silver and blue. They gave me soft boots of doeskin to put on my feet, and a

wide belt of light brown leather with an iron buckle in which were set rubies and sapphires, and I

hung my scabbard on this. Then I gripped the sword with my left fist.

'I am ready,' I said.

lolinda shuddered. 'Then let us leave this gloomy place,' she murmured.

With one last look back at the dais on which the heap of dust still lay, I walked with the King

and the Princess of Necranal out of my own tomb and into a calm day that, while warm, had a light

breeze blowing. We were standing on a small hill. Behind us the tomb, apparently built of black

quartz, looked time-worn and ancient, pitted by the passing of many storms and many winds. On its

roof was the corroded statue of a warrior mounted on a great battle-charger, The face had been

smoothed by dust and rain, but I knew it. It was my face.

I looked away.

Below us a caravan was waiting. There were the richly caparisoned horses and a guard of men

dressed in that same golden armour I had seen in my dreams. These warriors, however, were fresher

looking than the others.

Their armour was fluted, embellished with raised designs, ornate and beautiful but, according to

my sparse reading on the subject of armour, coupled with Erekosë's stirring memory, totally

unsuitable for war. The fluting and embossing acted as a trap to catch the point of a spear or

sword, whereas armour should be made to turn a point. This armour, for all its beauty, acted more

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as an extra danger than a protection.

The guards were mounted on heavy war-horses, but the beasts that knelt awaiting us resembled a

kind of camel from which all the camel's lumpen ugliness had been bred. These beasts were

beautiful. On their high backs were cabins of ebony, ivory and mother-of-pearl, curtained in

scintillating silks.

We walked down the hill, and as we walked I noticed that I still had the ring on my finger that I

had worn as John Daker. A ring of woven silver that my wife had given me . . . My wife . . . I

could not recall her face. I felt I should have left the ring behind me-on that other body. But

perhaps there is no body left behind.

We reached the kneeling beasts and the guards stiffened their backs to acknowledge our arrival. I

saw curiosity in many of the eyes that looked at me.

King Rigenos gestured towards one of the beasts. 'Would you care to take your cabin, Champion?'

Though he himself had summoned me, he seemed to be slightly wary of me.

'Thank you.' I climbed the little ladder of plaited silk and entered the cabin. It was completely

lined with deep cushions of a variety of hues.

The camels climbed to their feet and we began to move swiftly through a narrow valley whose sides

were lined with evergreen trees which I could not name-something like spreading monkey-puzzle

trees, but with more branches and broader leaves.

I had lain my sword across my knees. I inspected it. It was a plain, soldier's sword, having no

markings on the blade. The hilt fitted perfectly into my right hand as I gripped it. It was a good

sword. But why it was poisonous to other humans I did not know. Presumably it was also lethal to

those whom King Rigenos called the Hounds of Evil-the Eldren.

On we travelled through the soft day and I drowsed on my cushions, feeling strangely weary, until

I heard a cry and pushed back the curtains of my cabin to look ahead.

There was Necranal. The city which I had seen in my dreams.

Far away, still, it towered upwards so that the entire mountain upon which it was built was hidden

by its wondrous architecture. Minarets, steeples, domes and battlements shone in the sun and,

above them all, loomed the huge palace of the warrior kings, a noble structure, many-towered, the

Palace of Ten Thousand Windows. I remembered the name.

I saw King Rigenos peer from his cabin and cry: 'Katorn! Ride ahead and tell the people that

Erekosë the Champion has come to drive the Evil Ones back to the Mountains of Sorrow!'

The man he addressed was a sullen-faced individual. Doubtless the Captain of the Imperial Guard.

'Aye, sire,' he growled.

He drew his horse out of line and galloped speedily along the road of white dust which wound, now,

down an incline. I could see the road stretching for many miles into the distance towards

Necranal. I watched the rider for a while but wearied of this eventually and instead strained my

eyes to make out details in that great city structure.

The cities of London, New York or Tokyo were probably bigger in area, but not much. Necranal was

spread around the base of the mountain for many miles. Surrounding the city was a high wall upon

which turrets were mounted at intervals.

So, at last, we came to the great Main Gate of Necranal and our caravan halted.

A musical instrument sounded and the gates began to swing open. We passed through into streets

packed with jostling, cheering people who shouted so loudly I was forced, at times, to cover my

ears for fear they would rupture.

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CHAPTER THREE

THE ELDREN THREAT

Now the cheering gradually fell away as the little caravan ascended the winding road to the Palace

of Ten Thousand Windows. A silence settled and I heard only the creak of the howdah in which I

sat, the occasional jingle of harness or the clatter of a horse's hoof. I began to feel

discomforted. There was something about the mood of the city that was not altogether sane and

which could not be explained away in conventional terms. Certainly the people were afraid of enemy

attack; certainly they were weary with fighting. But it seemed to me that this mood held something

morbid-a mixture of hysterical elation and melancholic depression that I had sensed only once

before in my previous life, during my single visit to a mental hospital . . .

Or perhaps I was merely imposing my own mood on my surroundings. After all, it could be argued

that I was in a classic paranoid-schizophrenic situation! A man with two or more well-defined

identities who also happened to be considered in this world the potential saviour of mankind! For

a moment I wondered if in fact I had not gone completely insane-if this were not some monstrous

delusion-if I were not actually at this moment in the very madhouse I had once visited!

I touched the draperies, my scabbarded sword; I peered out at the vast city now stretched out

below me; I stared at the huge bulk of the Palace of Ten Thousand Windows above me. I attempted to

see beyond them, deliberately assuming that they were an illusion, expecting to see the walls of a

hospital room, or even the familiar walls of my own apartment. But the Palace of Ten Thousand

Windows remained as solid as ever. The City of Necranal had none of the qualities of a mirage. I

sank back in my cushions. I had to assume that this was real, that I had been transported somehow

across the ages and through space to this Earth of which there were no records in any history book

I had ever read (and I had read many) and of which there were only echoes in myths and legends.

I was no longer John Daker. I was Erekosë-the Eternal Champion. A legend myself-come to life.

I laughed then. If I were mad-then it was a glorious madness. A madness of which I would never

have considered myself capable of inventing!

At length our caravan arrived at the summit of the mountain and the jewelled gates of the palace

opened for us and we passed inside a splendid courtyard in which trees grew and fountains played,

feeding little rivers spanned by ornamental bridges. Fish swam in the rivers and birds sang in the

trees as pages came forward to make our beasts kneel down, and we stepped out into the evening

light.

King Rigenos smiled with pride as he gestured around the great courtyard. 'You like this, Erekosë?

I had it built myself, shortly after I came to the throne. The courtyard was a gloomy sort of

place until then-it did not fit with the rest of the palace.'

'It is very beautiful,' I said. I turned to look at lolinda who had joined us. 'And not the only

beautiful thing you have helped create-for here is the most beautiful adornment to your palace!'

King Rigenos chuckled. 'You are a courtier as well as a warrior, I see.' He took my arm and

lolinda's and guided us across the courtyard. 'Of course, I have little time these days to

consider the creation of beauty. It is weapons we must create now. Instead of plans for gardens, I

must concern myself with battle plans.' He sighed. 'Perhaps you will drive the Eldren away for

ever, Erekosë. Perhaps when they are destroyed, we shall be able to enjoy the peaceful things of

life again . . .'

I felt sorry for him at that moment. He only wanted what every man wanted-freedom from fear, a

chance to raise children with a reasonable certainty that they would be allowed to do the same, a

chance to look forward to the future without the knowledge that any plans made might be wrecked

for ever by some sudden act of violence. His world, after all, was not so different from the one I

had so recently left.

I put my hand on the king's shoulder, 'Let us hope so, King Rigenos,' I said. 'I will do what I

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can.'

He cleared his throat. 'And that will be a great deal, Champion. I know it will be a great deal.

We shall soon rid ourselves of the Eldren menace!'

We entered a cool hall whose walls were lined with beaten silver over which tapestries were

draped. It was a pleasant hall, though very large. Off the hall led a wide staircase and down the

staircase now descended a whole army of slaves, servants and retainers of all kinds. They drew

themselves up in ranks at the bottom and knelt to greet the king.

'This is Lord Erekosë,' King Rigenos told them. 'He is a great warrior and my honoured guest.

Treat him as you would treat me-obey him as you would obey me. All that he wishes shall be his.'

To my embarrassment the assemblage fell to its knees again and chorused: 'Greetings, Lord

Erekosë.'

I spread my hands. They rose. I was beginning to take this sort of behaviour for granted. There

was no doubt that part of me was used to it.

'I shall not burden you with ceremony for tonight,' Rigenos said. 'If you would like to refresh

yourself in the apartments we have set aside for your use, we shall visit you later.'

'Very well,' I said. I turned to lolinda and put out my hand to take hers. She extended it after a

moment's hesitation and I kissed it. 'I look forward to seeing you both again in a little time,' I

murmured, looking deep into her marvellous eyes. She dropped her gaze and withdrew her hand, and I

allowed the servants to escort me upstairs to my apartments.

Twenty large rooms had been set aside for my use. These contained quarters for a staff of some ten

personal slaves and servants and they were most of them extravagantly furnished with an eye to

luxury that, it seemed to me, the people of the twentieth century had lost. Opulent was the word

that sprang to mind. I could not move, but a slave would come forward and take my surcoat or help

me pour a glass of water or arrange the cushions of a divan. Yet I was still somewhat uneasy and

it was a relief, when exploring the apartments, to come upon the more austere rooms. These were

weapon-lined warrior's rooms, without cushions or silks or furs, but with solid benches and blades

and maces of iron and steel, brass-shod lances and razor-sharp arrows.

I spent some time in the weapon rooms and then returned to eat. My slaves brought me food and wine

and I ate and drank heartily.

When I had finished I felt as if I had been asleep for a long time and had awakened invigorated.

Again I paced the rooms, exploring them further, taking more interest in the weapons than in the

furnishings which would have delighted even the most jaded sybarite. I stepped out on to one of

the several covered balconies and surveyed the great city of Necranal as the sun set over it and

deep shadows began to flow through the streets.

The faraway sky was full of smoky colour. There were purples, oranges, yellows and blues, and

these colours were reflected in the domes and steeples of Necranal so that the entire city seemed

to take on a softer texture, like a pastel drawing.

The shadows grew blacker. The sun set and stained the topmost domes scarlet, and then the night

fell and fire flared suddenly all around the distant walls of Necranal, the yellow and red flames

leaping upward at intervals of a few yards and illuminating much of the city within the walls.

Lights appeared in windows and I heard the calls of night-birds and insects. I turned to go in and

saw that my servants had lit lamps for me. It had grown colder but I hesitated on the balcony and

decided to stay where I was, thinking deeply about my strange situation and trying to gauge the

exact nature of the perils which humanity faced.

There came a sound behind me. I looked back into the apartments and saw King Rigenos entering.

Moody Katorn, Captain of the Imperial Guard, was with him. Instead of a helmet he now wore a

platinum circlet on his head, and instead of a breastplate, a leather jerkin stamped with a design

in gold, but the absence of armour did not seem to soften his general demeanour. King Rigenos was

wrapped in a white fur cloak and still wore his spiked crown of iron and diamonds. The two men

joined me on the balcony.

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file:///G|/rah/Michael%20Moorcock/Michael%20Moorcock%20-%20The%20Eternal%20Champion.txt

'You feel rested, I hope, Erekosë?' King Rigenos enquired almost nervously, as if he had expected

me to fade into air while he was away.

'I feel very well, thank you, King Rigenos.'

'Good.' He hesitated.

'Time is valuable,' Katorn grunted.

'Yes, Katorn. Yes, I know.' King Rigenos looked at me as if he hoped I already knew what he wished

to say, but I did not and could only stare back, waiting for him to speak.

'You will forgive us, Erekosë,' said Katorn, 'if we come immediately to the Matter of the Human

Kingdoms. The king would outline to you our position and what we require of you . . .'

'Of course,' I said. 'I am ready.' I was in fact very anxious to learn the position.

We have maps,' said King Rigenos. 'Where are the maps, Katorn?'

'Within, sire.'

'Shall we . . .?'

I nodded and we entered my apartments, We passed through two chambers until we came to the main

living-room in which was a large oak table. Here stood several of King Rigenos's slaves with large

rolls of parchment under their arms. Katorn selected several of the rolls and spread them, one on

top of the other, on the table. He drew his heavy dagger to weight one side and picked up a metal

vase studded with rubies and emeralds to hold the other side.

I looked at the maps with interest. I already recognised them. I had seen something similar in my

dreams before I had been called here by King Rigenos's incantations.

Now the king bent over the maps and his long, pale index finger traced over the territories shown.

'As I told you in your-your tomb, Erekosë, the Eldren now dominate the entire southern continent.

They call this continent Mernadin. There.' His finger now hovered over a coastal region of the

continent. 'Five years ago they recaptured the only real outpost we had on Mernadin. Here. Their

ancient seaport of Paphanaal. There was little fighting.'

'Your forces fled?' I asked.

Katorn came in again. 'I admit that we had grown complacent. When they suddenly swept out of the

Mountains of Sorrow, we were unprepared. They must have been building their damned armies for

years and we were unaware of it. We could not be expected to know their plans-they're aided by

sorcery and we are not!'

'You were able to evacuate most of your colonies, I take it?' I put in.

Katorn shrugged. 'There was little evacuation necessary. Mernadin was virtually uninhabited since

human beings would not live in a land which had been polluted by the presence of the Hounds of

Evil. The continent is cursed. Inhabited by fiends from Hell.'

I rubbed my chin and asked innocently: 'Then why did you drive the Eldren back to the mountains in

the first place if you had no need of their territories?'

'Because while they had the land under their control they were a constant threat to Humanity!'

'I see.' I made a tiny gesture with my right hand. 'Forgive me for interrupting you. Please

continue.'

'A constant threat-' began Katorn.

'That threat is once again imminent,' the king's voice broke in. It was thick and trembling. His

eyes were suddenly full of fear and hatred. 'We expect them at any moment to launch an attack upon

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Michael Moorcock - The Eternal Champion

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