The Vanishing Tower Read online

  Moonglum was the first to rise. He stumbled through the deep snow to where Elric lay. With chapped hands he tried to lift his friend.

  The tide of Elric's thin blood had almost ceased to move in his body. He moaned as Moonglum helped him to his feet. He tried to speak, but his lips were frozen shut.

  Clutching each other, sometimes walking, sometimes crawling, they progressed towards the castle.

  Its entrance stood open. They fell through it and the warmth issuing from the ulterior revived them suffi­ciently to allow them to rise and stagger down a narrow passage into a great hall.

  It was an empty hall.

  It was completely bare of furnishings, save for a huge log fire that blazed in a hearth of granite and quartz built at the far end of the hall. They crossed flagstones of lapis lazuli to reach it.

  "So the castle is inhabited."

  Moonglum's voice was harsh and thick in his mouth. He stared around him at the basalt walls. He raised his voice as best he could and called:

  "Greetings to whoever is the master of this hall. We are Moonglum of Elwher and Elric of Melnibone and we crave your hospitality, for we are lost in your land."

  And then Elric's knees buckled and he fell to the floor.

  Moonglum stumbled towards him as the echoes of his voice died in the hall. All was silent save for the crackling of the logs in the hearth.

  Moonglum dragged Elric to the fire and lay him down near it.

  "Warm your bones here, friend Elric. I'll seek the folk who live here."

  Then he crossed the hall and ascended the stone stair leading to the next floor of the castle.

  This floor was as bereft of furniture or decoration as the other. There were many rooms, but all of them were empty. Moonglum began to feel uneasy, scenting something of the supernatural here. Could this be Theleb K'aarna's castle?

  For someone dwelt here, in truth. Someone had laid the fire and had opened the gates so that they might enter. And they had not left the castle in the ordinary way or he should have noticed the tracks in the snow outside.

  Moonglum paused, then turned and slowly began to descend the stairs. Reaching the hall, he saw that Elric had revived enough to prop himself up against the chimneypiece.

  "And—what—found you . . ." said Elric thickly.

  Moonglum shrugged. "Nought. No servants. No mas­ter. If they have gone a-hunting, then they hunt on flying beasts, for there are no signs of hoofprints in the snow outside. I am a little nervous, I must admit." He smiled slightly. "Aye—and a little hungry, too. I'll seek the pantry. If danger comes, we'd do as well to face it on full stomachs."

  There was a door set back and to one side of the hearth. He tried the latch and it opened into a short passage at the end of which was another door. He went down the passage, hand on sword, and opened the door at the end. A parlour, as deserted as the rest of the castle. And beyond the parlour he saw the castle's kitchens. He went through the kitchens, noting that there were cooking things here, all polished and clean but none in use, and came finally to the pantry.

  Here he found the best part of a large deer hanging and on the shelf above it were ranked many skins and jars of wine. Below this shelf were bread and some pasties and below that spices.

  Moonglum's first action was to reach up on tiptoe and take down a jar of wine, removing the cork and sniffing the contents.

  He had smelled nothing more delicate or delicious in his life.

  He tasted the wine and he forgot his pain and his weariness. But he did not forget that Elric still waited in the hall.

  With his short sword he cut off a haunch of vension and tucked it under his arm. He selected some spices and put them into his belt-pouch. Under his other arm he put the bread and in both hands he carried a jar of wine.

  He returned to the hall, put down his spoils and helped Elric drink from the jar.

  The strange wine worked almost instantly and Elric offered Moonglum a smile that had gratitude in it.

  "You are—a good friend—I wonder why. . . ."

  Moonglum turned away with an embarrassed grunt. He began to prepare the meat which he intended to roast over the fire.

  He had never understood his friendship with the al­bino. It had always been a peculiar mixture of reserve and affection, a fine balance which both men were care­ful to maintain, even in situations of this kind.

  Elric, since his passion for Cymoril had resulted in her death and the destruction of the city he loved, had at all times feared bestowing any tender emotion on those he fell in with.

  He had run away from Shaarilla of the Dancing Mist, who had loved him dearly. He had fled from Queen Yishana of Jharkor, who had offered him her kingdom to rule, in spite of her subjects' hatred of him. He dis­dained most company save Moonglum's, and Moon­glum, too, became quickly bored by anyone other than the crimson-eyed Prince of Imrryr. Moonglum would die for Elric and he knew that Elric would risk any danger to save his friend. But was not this an unhealthy relationship? Would it not be better if they went their different ways? He could not bear the thought. It was as if they were part of the same entity—different aspects of the character of the same man.

  He could not understand why he should feel this. And he guessed that, if Elric had ever considered the question, the Melnibonean would be equally hard put to find an answer.

  He contemplated all this as he roasted the meat be­fore the fire, using his long sword as a spit.

  Meanwhile Elric took another draft of wine and be­gan, almost visibly, to thaw out. His skin was still badly blistered by chilblains, but both men had es­caped serious frostbite.

  They ate the venison in silence, glancing around the hall, puzzling over the non-appearance of the owner, yet too tired to care greatly where he was.

  Then they slept, having put fresh logs on the fire, and in the morning they were almost completely recovered from their ordeal in the snow.

  They breakfasted on cold venison and pasties and wine.

  Moonglum found a pot and heated water in it so that they might shave and wash and Elric found some salve in his pouch which they could put on their blisters.

  "I looked in the stables," Moonglum said as he shaved with the razor he had taken from his own pouch. "But I found no horses. There are signs, however, that some beasts have been kept there recently."

  "There is only one other way to travel," Elric said. "There might be skis somewhere in the castle. It is the sort of thing you might expect to find, for there is snow in these parts for at least half the year. Skis would speed our progress back towards Iosaz. As would a map and a lodestone if we could find one."

  Moonglum agreed. "I'll search the upper levels." He finished his shaving, wiped his razor and replaced it in his pouch.

  Elric got up. "I'll go with you."

  Through the empty rooms they wandered, but they found nothing.

  "No gear of any kind." Elric frowned. "And yet there is a strong sense that the castle is inhabited—and evi­dence, too, of course."

  They searched two more floors and there was not even dust in the rooms.

  "Well, perhaps we walk after all," Moonglum said in resignation. "Unless there was wood with which we could manufacture skis of some kind. I might have seen some in the stables. ..."

  They had reached a narrow stair which wound up the highest tower of the castle.

  "We'll try this and then count our quest unsuccess­ful," Elric said.

  And so they climbed the stair and came to a door at the top which was half-open. Elric pushed it back and then he hesitated.

  "What is it?" Moonglum, who was below him, asked.

  "This room is furnished," Elric said quietly.

  Moonglum ascended two more steps and peered round Elric's shoulder. He gasped.

  "And occupied!"

  It was a beautiful room. Through crystal windows came pale light which sparkled and fell on hangings of many-coloured silk, on embroidered carpets and tapes­tries of hues so fresh they might have been made only a
moment before.

  In the centre of this room was a bed, draped in er­mine, with a canopy of white silk.

  And on the bed lay a young woman.

  Her hair was black and it shone. Her gown was of the deepest scarlet. Her limbs were like rose-tinted ivory and her face was very fair, the lips slightly parted as she breathed.

  She was asleep.

  Elric took two steps towards the woman on the bed and then he stopped suddenly. He was shuddering. He turned away.

  Moonglum was alarmed. He saw bright tears in El­ric's crimson eyes.

  "What is it, friend Elric?"

  Elric moved his white lips but was incapable of speech. Something like a groan came from his throat.

  "Elric...."

  Moonglum placed a hand on his friend's arm. Elric shook it off.

  Slowly the albino turned again towards the bed, as if forcing himself to behold an impossibly horrifying sight. He breathed deeply, straightening his back and resting his left hand on the pommel of his sorcerous blade.

  "Moonglum...."

  He was forcing himself to speak. Moonglum glanced at the woman on the bed, glanced at Elric. Did he recognise her?

  "Moonglum—this is a sorcerous sleep...."

  "How know you that?"

  "It—it is a similar slumber to that in which my cousin Yyrkoon put my Cymoril. ..."

  "Gods! Think you that. . . ?"

  "I think nothing!"

  "But it is not—"

  "—it is not Cymoril. I know. I—she is like her—so like her. But unlike her, too. ... It is only that I could not have expected. ..."

  Elric bowed his head.

  He spoke in a low voice. "Come, let's be gone from here."

  "But she must be the owner of this castle. If we awakened her we could—"

  "She cannot be awakened by such as we. I told you, Moonglum. . . ." Elric drew another deep breath. "It is an enchanted sleep she is in. I could not wake Cy­moril from it, with all my powers of sorcery. Unless one has certain magical aids, some knowledge of the exact spell used, there is nothing that can be done. Quickly, Moonglum, let us depart."

  There was an edge to Elric's voice which made Moon­glum shiver.

  "But..."

  "Then I will go!"

  Elric almost ran from the room. Moonglum heard his footsteps echoing rapidly down the long staircase.

  He went up to the sleeping woman and stared down at her beauty.

  He touched the skin. It was unnaturally cold. He shrugged and made to leave the chamber, pausing for a moment only to notice that a number of ancient battle-shields and weapons hung on one wall of the room, be­hind the bed. Strange trophies with which a beautiful woman should wish to decorate her bedroom, he thought. He saw the carved wooden table below the trophies. Something lay upon it. He stepped back into the room. A peculiar sensation filled him as he saw that it was a map. The castle was marked and so was the Zaphra-Trepek river.

  Holding the map down to the table was a lodestone, set in silver on a long silver chain.

  He grabbed the map in one hand and the lodestone in the other and ran from the room.

  "Elric! Elric!"

  He raced down the stairs and reached the hall. Elric had gone. The door of the hall was open.

  He followed the albino out of the mysterious castle and into the snow.

  "Elric!"

  Elric turned, his face set and his eyes tormented.

  Moonglum showed him the map and the lodestone.

  "We are saved, after all, Elric!"

  Elric looked down at the snow. "Aye. So we are."

  Chapter Five

  Doomed Lord Dreaming

  And two days later they reached the upper reaches of the Zaphra-Trepek and the trading town of Alorasaz with its towers of finely carved wood and its beautifully made timber houses.

  To Alorasaz came the fur trappers and the miners, the merchants from Iosaz, downriver, or from afar as Trepesaz on the coast. A cheerful, bustling town with its streets lit and heated by great, red braziers at every corner. These were tended by citizens specially commissiond to keep them burning hot and bright. Wrapped in thick woollen clothing, they hailed Elric and Moonglum as they entered the city.

  For all they had been sustained by the wine and meat Moonglum had thought to bring, they were weary from their walk across the steppe.

  They made their way through the rumbustious crowd—laughing, red-cheeked women and burly, fur-swathed men whose breath steamed in the air, mingling with the smoke from the braziers, as they took huge swallows from gourds of beer or skins of wine, conducting their business with the slightly less bucolic merchants of the more sophisticated townships.

  Elric was looking for news and he knew that if he found it anywhere it would be in the taverns. He waited while Moonglum followed his nose to the best of Alorasaz's inns and came back with the news of where it could be found.

  They walked a short distance and entered a rowdy tavern crammed with big, wooden tables and benches on which were jammed more traders and more merchants all arguing cheerfully, holding up furs to display their quality or to mock their worthlessness, depending on which point of view was taken.

  Moonglum left Elric standing in the doorway and went to speak with the landlord, a hugely fat man with a glistening scarlet face.

  Elric saw the landlord bend and listen to Moonglum. The man nodded and raised an arm to bellow at Elric to follow him and Moonglum.

  Elric inched his way through the press and was knocked half off his feet by a gesticulating trader who apologised cheerfully and profusely and offered to buy him a drink.

  "It is nothing," Elric said faintly.

  The man got up. "Come on, sir, it was my fault. . .." His voice tailed off as he saw the albino's face. He mumbled something and sat down again, making a wry remark to one of his companions.

  Elric followed Moonglum and the landlord up a flight of swaying wooden stairs, along a landing and into a private room which, the landlord told them, was all that was available.

  "Such rooms as these are expensive during the winter market," the landlord said apologetically.

  And Moonglum winced as, silently, Elric handed the man another precious ruby worth a small fortune.

  The landlord looked at it carefully and then laughed. "This inn will have fallen down before your credit's up, master. I thank thee. Trading must be good this sea­son! I'll have drink and viands sent up at once!"

  "The finest you have, landlord," said Moonglum, try­ing to make the best of things.

  "Aye—I wish I had better."

  Elric sat down on one of the beds and removed his cloak and his sword-belt. The chill had not left his bones.

  "I wish you would give me charge of our wealth," Moonglum said as he removed his boots by the fire. "We might have need of it before this quest is ended."

  But Elric seemed not to hear him.

  After they had eaten and discovered from the land­lord that a ship was leaving the day after tomorrow for Iosaz, Elric and Moonglum went to their separate beds to sleep.

  Elric's dreams were troubled that night. More than usual did phantoms come to walk the dark corridors of his mind.

  He saw Cymoril screaming as the Black Sword drank her soul. He saw Imrryr burning, her fine towers crum­bling. He saw his cackling cousin Yyrkoon sprawling on the Ruby Throne. He saw other things which could not possibly be part of his past. . . .

  Never quite suited to be ruler of the cruel folk of Melnibone, Elric had wandered the lands of men only to discover that he had no place there, either. And in the meantime Yyrkoon had usurped the kingship, had tried to force Cymoril to be his and, when she refused, put her into a deep and sorcerous slumber from which only he could wake her.

  Now Elric dreamed that he had found a Nanorion, the mystic gem which could awaken even the dead. He dreamed that Cymoril was still alive, but sleeping, and that he placed the Nanorion on her forehead and that she woke up and kissed him and left Imrryr with him, sailing through th
e skies on Flamefang, the great Melni­bonean battle dragon, away to a peaceful castle in the snow.

  He awoke with a start.

  It was the dead of night.

  Even the noise from the tavern below had subsided.

  He opened his eyes and saw Moonglum fast asleep in the next bed.

  He tried to return to sleep, but it was impossible. He was sure that he could sense another presence in the room. He reached out and gripped the hilt of Storm­bringer, prepared to defend himself should any attackers strike at him. Perhaps it was thieves who had heard of his generosity towards the innkeeper?

  He heard something move in the room and, again, he opened his eyes.

  She was standing there, her black hair curling over her shoulders, her scarlet gown clinging to her body. Her lips curved in a smile of irony and her eyes re­garded him steadily.

  She was the woman he had seen in the castle. The sleeping woman. Was this part of the dream?

  "Forgive me for thus intruding upon your slumber and your privacy, my lord, but my business is urgent and I have little time to spare."

  Elric saw that Moonglum still slept as if in a drugged slumber.

  He sat upright in his bed. Stormbringer moaned softly and then was silent.

  "You seem to know me, my lady, but I do not—"

  "I am called Myshella. ..."

  "Empress of the Dawn?"

  She smiled again. "Some have named me that. And others have called me the Dark Lady of Kaneloon."

  "Whom Aubec loved? Then you must have preserved your youth carefully, Lady Myshella."

  "No doing of mine. It is possible that I am immortal. I do not know. I know only one thing and that is that Time is a deception. . . ."

  "Why do you come?"

  "I cannot stay for long. I come to seek your aid."

  "In what way?"

  "We have an enemy in common, I believe."

  "Theleb K'aarna?"

  "The same."

  "Did he place that enchantment upon you that made you sleep?"

  "Aye."