The Vanishing Tower

  "Theleb K'aarna is clever," Elric muttered. "The warriors of Tanelorn will hesitate before striking at women. And while they hesitate the Elenoin will rip and slash and slay them."

  Rackhir had already seen the Elenoin and he, too, recognised them for what they were. "Do not be de­ceived, men!" he called. "These creatures are demons!" He glanced across at Elric and there was a look of resignation on his face. He knew the power of the Elenoin. He spurred his horse towards the albino. "What can we do, Elric?"

  Elric sighed. "What can mortals do against the Elenoin?"

  "Have you no sorcery?"

  "With the Ring of Kings I could summon the Grahluk, perhaps. They are the ancient enemies of the Elenoin. Theleb K'aarna has already made a gateway from the Eighth Plane."

  "Could you not try to call the Grahluk?" Rackhir begged.

  "While I tried my sword would not be aiding you. I think Stormbringer is more use today than spells."

  Rackhir shuddered and turned his horse away to order his men to re-form their ranks. He knew now that they were all to die.

  And now the beggars fell back, as horrified by the Elenoin as were the men of Tanelorn.

  Still singing their shrill, chill song, the Elenoin low­ered their swords and spread out along the hill, each one smiling at them.

  "How can they . . . ?" Then Moonglum saw their eyes. They were huge, orange, animal eyes. "Oh, by the Gods!" And then he saw their teeth—long, pointed teeth which glinted like metal.

  The horsemen of Tanelorn fell back to the waggons in a long, ragged line. Horror, despair, uncertainty was on every face save Elric's—and on his face was a look of grim anger. His crimson eyes smouldered as he held Stormbringer across his saddle pommel and regarded the demon women, the Elenoin.

  The singing grew louder until it made their ears fill with sharp pain and made their stomachs turn. The Elenoin raised their slender arms and began to whirl their long swords about their heads again, staring at them all the while through beastlike, insensate eyes— malicious, unblinking eyes.

  Then Carkan of Pan Tang, his fur cap askew, his chequered cloak billowing, gave a strangled yell and urged his heavy horse at them, his own sword waving.

  "Back, demons! Back, spawn of hell!"

  "Aaaaaaaah!" gasped the Elenoin in anticipation. "Eeeeeeeh!" they sang.

  And Carkan was suddenly in the midst of a dozen slender, slashing swords and he and his horse were cut all to tiny morsels of flesh which lay in a heap at the feet of the Elenoin. And their laughter filled the valley as some of them bent to pop the flesh into their fanged mouths.

  A groan of horror and hatred went up from the ranks of Tanelorn then and screaming men, hysterical with fear and disgust, began to fling themselves at the Elenoin who laughed the more and whirled their sharp swords.

  Stormbringer murmured as it seemed to hear the sounds of battle, but Elric did not move as he stared at the scene. He knew that the Elenoin would kill all as they had killed Carkan.

  Moonglum moaned. "Elric—there must be some sorcery against them!"

  "There is! But I cannot summon the Grahluk!" Elric's chest was heaving and his brain was in turmoil. "I cannot, Moonglum!"

  "For the sake of Tanelorn, you must try!"

  Then Elric was riding forward, Stormbringer howl­ing, riding at the Elenoin and screaming Arioch's name as his ancestors had screamed it since the founding of Imrryr!

  "Arioch! Arioch! Blood and souls for my Lord Arioch!"

  He parried the whirling blade of an Elenoin and glared into the bestial eyes as Stormbringer sent a shud­der down his arm. He struck and his own blow was parried by the demon that was not a woman. Red hair swung and curled around his throat. He hacked at it and it loosened its grip. He thrust at the naked body and the Elenoin danced aside. Another whistling blow from the slim sword and he flung himself backwards to avoid it, toppling from his saddle and springing in­stantly to his feet to parry a second attack, gripped Stormbringer in both hands and stepped forward under the blade to plunge the Black Sword into the smooth belly. The Elenoin shouted with anger and green foul­ness billowed from the wound. The Elenoin fell, still glaring and snarling, still living. Elric chopped at the neck and the head sprang off, its hair thrashing at him. He dashed forward, picked up the head and began to run up the hill to where the beggars were gathered, watching the destruction of Tanelorn's warriors. As he approached the beggars broke and began to run, but he caught one in the back with his blade. The man fell, tried to crawl on, but his twisted knees would not sup­port him and he collapsed into the stained grass. Elric picked the wretch up and flung him over his shoulder. Then he turned and began to run down the hill back to the camp. The warriors of Tanelorn were fighting well, but half their number had already been slain by the Elenoin. Almost unbelievably there were also sev­eral Elenoin corpses on the field.

  Elric saw Moonglum defending himself with both swords. He saw Rackhir, still mounted, shouting orders to his men. He saw Brut of Lashmar in the thick of the fight. But he ran on until he stood behind one of the waggons and had dropped both his bloody bundles to the ground. With his sword he split open the twitching body of the beggar and he gathered up the hair of the Elenoin and soaked it in the man's blood.

  Again he stood upright, looking towards the west, with the bloody hair in one hand and Stormbringer in the other. He raised both sword and head and began to speak in the ancient High Speech of Melnibone.

  Held to the West and soaked in the blood of an enemy, the hair of an Elenoin must be used to summon the enemies of the Elenoin—the Grahluk. He remem­bered the words he had read in his father's ancient grimoire.

  And now the invocation:

  Grahluk come and Grahluk slay!

  Come kill thine ancient enemy!

  Make this thy victory day.

  All the strength of the Burning God was leaving him as he used the energy to perform the invocation. And perhaps without the Ring of Kings he was wasting that strength for nothing.

  Grahluk speed without delay!

  Come kill thine ancient enemy!

  Make this thy vengeance day.

  The spell was far less complex than many he had used in the past. Yet it took as much from him as any spell ever had.

  "Grahluk, I summon thee! Grahluk, here you may take vengeance on your foes!"

  Many cycles since, the Elenoin were said to have driven the Grahluk from their lands in the Eighth Plane and the Grahluk sought revenge now at every opportunity.

  All around Elric the air shivered and turned brown, then green, then black.

  "Grahluk! Come destroy the Elenoin!" Elric's voice was weakening. "Grahluk—the gateway is made!"

  And now the ground trembled and strange winds blew at the blood-soaked hair of the Elenoin and the air became thick and purple and Elric fell to his knees, still croaking the invocation.

  "Grahluk ..."

  A shuffling sound. A grunting noise. The stink of something unnameable.

  The Grahluk had come. They were apelike creatures as bestial as the Elenoin. They carried nets and ropes and shields. Once, it was said, both Grahluk and Elenoin had had intelligence—had been part of the same species which had devolved and divided.

  They moved out of the purple mist in their scores and they stood looking at Elric who was still on his knees. Elric pointed at where the remaining warriors of Tanelorn were still fighting the Elenoin.

  "There ..."

  The Grahluk snorted with battle-greed and shambled towards the Elenoin.

  The Elenoin saw them and their shrill wailing voices changed in quality as they retreated a short distance up the hill.

  Elric forced himself to his feet and gasped: "Rackhir! Withdraw your warriors. The Grahluk will do their work now. . . ."

  "You helped us after all!" Rackhir yelled, turning his horse. His clothes were all in tatters and there were a dozen wounds on his body.

  They watched as the Grahluk's nets and nooses flashed towards the screaming Elenoin whose sword blows w
ere stopped by the Grahluk shields. They watched as the Elenoin were crushed and throttled and parts of their entrails devoured by the grunting, apelike demons.

  And when the last of the Elenoin was dead, the Grahluk picked up the fallen swords and reversed them and fell upon them.

  Rackhir said: "They are killing themselves. Why?"

  "They live only to destroy the Elenoin. Once that is done, they have nothing left for which to exist." Elric swayed and Rackhir and Moonglum caught him.

  "See!" Moonglum laughed. "The beggars are run­ning!"

  "Theleb K'aarna," Elric muttered. "We must get Theleb K'aarna. . . ."

  "Doubtless he has gone back with Urish to Nadso­kor," Moonglum said.

  "I must—I must retrieve the Ring of Kings."

  "Plainly you can work your sorcery without it," Rackhir said.

  "Can I?" Elric looked up and showed his face to Rackhir who lowered his eyes and nodded.

  "We will help you get back your ring," Rackhir said quietly. "There'll be no more trouble from the beggars. We'll ride with you to Nadsokor."

  "I had hoped you would." Elric climbed with diffi­culty into the saddle of a surviving horse and jerked at its reins, turning it towards the City of Beggars. "Per­haps your arrows will slay what my sword can­not. . . ."

  "I do not understand you," Rackhir said.

  Moonglum was mounting now. "We'll tell you on the way."

  Chapter Six

  The Jesting Demon

  Through the filth of Nadsokor now rode the warriors of Tanelorn.

  Elric, Moonglum and Rackhir were at the head of the company but there was no ostentatious triumph in their demeanour. The riders looked neither to left nor to right and the beggars offered no threat now, not daring to attack but instead cowering into the shadows.

  A potion of Rackhir's had helped Elric recover some of his strength and he no longer leaned over his horse's neck but sat upright as they crossed the forum, came to the palace of the Beggar King.

  Elric did not pause. He rode his horse up the steps and into the gloomy hall.

  "Theleb K'aarna!" Elric shouted.

  His voice boomed through the hall, but Theleb K'aarna did not reply.

  The braziers of garbage guttered in the wind from the opened door and threw a little more light on the dais at the end.

  "Theleb K'aarna!"

  But it was not Theleb K'aarna who knelt there. It was a wretched, ragged figure and it sprawled before the throne and it was sobbing, imploring, whining at something on the throne.

  Elric walked his horse a little further into the hall and now he could see what occupied the throne.

  Squatting in the great chair of black oak was the demon which had been there earlier. Its arms were folded and its eyes were shut and it seemed, somewhat theatrically, to be ignoring the pleadings of the creature kneeling at its feet.

  The others, also mounted, entered the hall now and together they rode up to the dais and stopped.

  The kneeling figure turned its head and it was Urish. It gasped when it saw Elric and stretched out a maimed hand for its cleaver, abandoned some dis­tance away.

  Elric sighed.

  "Do not fear me, Urish. I'm weary of blood-letting. I do not want your life."

  The demon opened its eyes.

  "Prince Elric, you have returned," it said. There seemed to be an indefinable difference in its tone.

  "Aye. Where is your master?"

  "I fear he has fled Nadsokor forever."

  "And left you to sit here for eternity."

  The demon inclined its head.

  Urish put a grimy hand on Elric's leg. "Elric—help me! I must have my Hoard. It is everything! Destroy the demon and I will give you back the Ring of Kings."

  Elric smiled. "You are generous, King Urish."

  Tears streamed down the filth on Urish's ruined face. "Please, Elric, I beg thee. . . ."

  "It is my intention to destroy the demon."

  Urish looked nervously about him. "And aught else?"

  "That decision lies with the men of Tanelorn whom you sought to rob and whose friends you caused to be slain in a most foul manner."

  "It was Theleb K'aarna, not I!"

  "And where is Theleb K'aarna now?"

  "When you unleashed those ape things on our Ele­noin he fled the field. He went towards the Varkalk River—towards Troos."

  Without looking behind him Elric said, "Rackhir? Will you try the arrows now?"

  There was the hum of a bowstring and an arrow struck the demon in the breast. It quivered there and the demon looked at it with mild interest, then breathed in deeply. As he breathed the arrow was drawn further into him and was eventually absorbed altogether.

  "Aaah!" Urish scuttled for his cleaver. "It will not work!"

  A second arrow sped from Rackhir's scarlet bow and it, too, was absorbed, as was the third.

  Urish was gibbering now, waving his cleaver.

  Elric warned him: "He has a wardpact against swords, King Urish!"

  The demon rattled its scales. "Is that thing a sword, I wonder?"

  Urish hesitated. Spittle ran down his chin and his red eyes rolled. "Demon—begone! I must have my Hoard—it is mine!"

  The demon watched him sardonically.

  With a yell of terror and anguish Urish flung himself at the demon, the cleaver Hackmeat swinging wildly. Its blade came down on the hell-thing's head, there was a sound like lightning striking metal and the cleaver shivered to pieces. Urish stood staring at the demon in quaking anticipation. Casually the demon reached out four of its hands and seized him. Its jaws opened wider than should have been possible, the bulk of the demon expanded until it was suddenly twice its original size. It brought the kicking Beggar King to its maw and suddenly there were only two legs waving from the mouth and then the demon gave a mighty swallow and there was nothing at all left of Urish of Nadsokor.

  Elric shrugged. "Your wardpact is effective."

  The demon smiled. "Aye, sweet Elric."

  Now the tone of voice was very familiar. Elric looked narrowly at the demon. "You're no ordi­nary ..."

  "I hope not, most beloved of mortals."

  Elric's horse reared and snorted as the demon's shape began to alter. There was a humming sound and black smoke coiled over the throne and then another figure was sitting there, its legs crossed. It had the shape of a man but it was more beautiful than any mortal. It was a being of intense and majestic beauty—unearthly beauty.

  "Arioch!" Elric bowed his head before the Lord of Chaos.

  "Aye, Elric. I took the demon's place while you were gone."

  "But you have refused to aid me. . . ."

  "There are larger affairs afoot, as I've told you. Soon Chaos must engage with Law and such as Donblas will be dismissed to Limbo for eternity."

  "You knew Donblas spoke to me in the labyrinth of the Burning God?"

  "Indeed I did. That was why I afforded myself the time to visit your plane. I cannot have you patronised by Donblas the Justice Maker and his humourless kind. I was offended. Now I have shown you that my power is greater than Law's." Arioch stared beyond Elric at Rackhir, Brut, Moonglum and the rest who were pro­tecting their eyes from his beauty. "Perhaps you fools of Tanelorn now realise that it is better to serve Chaos!"

  Rackhir said grimly: "I serve neither Chaos nor Law!"

  "One day you will be taught that neutrality is more dangerous than side-taking, renegade!" The harmoni­ous voice was now almost vicious.

  "You cannot harm me," Rackhir said. "And if Elric returns with us to Tanelorn, then he, too, may rid him­self of your evil yoke!"

  "Elric is of Melnibone. The folk of Melnibone all serve Chaos—and are greatly rewarded: How else would you have rid this throne of Theleb K'aarna's demon?"

  "Perhaps in Tanelorn Elric would have no need of his Ring of Kings," Rackhir replied levelly.

  There was a sound like rushing water, the boom of thunder and Arioch's form began to grow larger. But as it grew it als
o began to fade until there was nothing left in the hall but the stench of its garbage.

  Elric dismounted and ran to the throne. Reaching under it he drew out dead Urish's chest and hacked it open with Stormbringer. The sword murmured as if resenting the menial work. Gems, gold, artifacts scat­tered through the muck as Elric sought his ring.

  And then at last he held it up in triumph, replacing it on his finger. His step was lighter as he returned to his horse.

  Moonglum had in the meantime dismounted and was scooping the best of the jewels into his pouch. He winked at Rackhir, who smiled.

  "And now," Elric said, "I go to Troos to seek Theleb K'aarna there. I have still to take my vengeance upon him."

  "Let him rot in Troos's sickly forest," Moonglum said.

  Rackhir placed a hand on Elric's shoulder. "If Theleb K'aarna hates you so, he will find you again. Why waste your own time in the pursuit?"

  Elric smiled slightly at his old friend. "You were ever clever in your arguments, Rackhir. And it is true that I am weary—both gods and demons have fallen to my blade in the little while since I came to Nad­sokor."

  "Come, rest in Tanelorn—peaceful Tanelorn, where even the greatest Lords of the Higher Worlds cannot come without permission."

  Elric looked down at the ring on his finger. "Yet I have sworn Theleb K'aarna shall perish. ..."

  "There will be time yet to fulfil your oath."

  Elric ran his hand through his milk-white hair and it seemed to his friends that there were tears in his crimson eyes.

  "Aye," he said. "Aye. Time yet. . . ."

  And they rode away from Nadsokor, leaving the beg­gars to brood in the stink and the foulness and regret that they had aught to do with sorcery or with Elric of Melnibone.

  They rode for Eternal Tanelorn. Tanelorn, which had welcomed and held all troubled wanderers who came upon it. All save one.