Hawkmoon: The Jewel in the Skull

by Michael Moorcock

  But then suddenly from the palace a flame cannon roared. Huon's men had at last succeeded in positioning their artillery within the palace itself. Several bolts of fire shot over their heads and others splashed harmlessly on the walls below. Kalan chuckled in triumph. "Those things are useless against my weapon. Aim it at them. Taragorm. Send a bubble—there!"— and his finger stabbed towards the windows where the guns were positioned.

  Taragorm seemed as absorbed in the machine as Kalan and it amused Meliadus to watch the two scientists playing like schoolboys with a new toy. He felt in a tolerant mood now. It was obvious Kalan's weapon was turning the battle in his favour. It was time to join Adaz Promp and lead in the troops.

  He descended the steps that took him to the interior of the tower and called for his litter. Once in it, he leaned back comfortably, feeling already a certain sweet triumph.

  Then overhead he heard a mighty explosion that shook the whole tower. He leapt from his litter and began to run back the way he had come. As he neared the roof he was driven back by an intense heat and saw Kalan, his mask twisted and buckled, staggering through the steam towards him. "Get back!" Kalan screamed.

  "The machine exploded. I was near the entrance or I should have been killed. It's spilling my mixture all over the tower. Get away or we'll all be eaten by the stuff."

  "Taragorm!" Meliadus said. "What of Taragorm?"

  "There can be nothing left of him," Kalan said.

  "Quickly—we'll have to leave the tower as fast as we can.

  Hurry, Meliadus!"

  "Taragorm dead? And so soon after he had served my purpose?" Meliadus followed Kalan down the ramps. "I had known he would give me trouble after Huon was defeated. I had wondered how to cope with him. But now my problem is solved! My poor brother!"

  Meliadus roared with laughter as he ran.

  Chapter Eight - Flana Observes The Battle

  FROM THE SAFETY of her own tower, Flana Mikosevaar watched the soldiers pour through the breached wall of the palace as the tower which had lately been Meliadus's headquarters toppled, tilted and fell with a crash upon the lower sections of the city.

  For a moment she had thought Meliadus destroyed when the tower fell, but now she could see his banner leading the warriors into battle. She also saw the banner of Adaz Promp beside it and knew that Wolf and Hound, traditional rivals, attacked King Huon together.

  She sighed. The noise of the battle had intensified and she could find no escape from it. The flame-cannon vainly attempted to shorten range, to fire down into the courtyard at the warriors as they rushed towards the great gates of the palace in which the green bubbles had eaten gaping holes. But the artillery was useless. It had been positioned anticipating a long siege and now it could not be moved down in time. A few flame lances fired from the broken gates, but no large artillery.

  The sound of the battle seemed to fade, as did the sight of it, as Flana thought again of D'Averc and wondered if he would come. Adaz Promp's news had raised her hopes, for if Hawkmoon were alive then D'Averc was likely to be, also.

  But would she ever see D'Averc Would he die in some skirmish, vainly attempting to resist the might of Granbretan? Even if he did not die at once he was destined to live the life of a hunted bandit, for none could ever hope to do battle with the Dark Empire and succeed. She supposed that Hawkmoon, D'Averc and the rest would die on some distant battlefield. They might reach the coast before they were destroyed, but they could not possibly come close to her, for the sea sep-arated them and the Silver Bridge Across the Sea would not be open to the Kamargian guerillas.

  Flana considered taking her own life, but it did not seem worth it at present. When all hope was gone, then she would kill herself, but not before. And if she were Queen, she would have some power. There was a slight chance that Meliadus would spare D'Averc, for D'Averc in some ways was the least of Meliadus's hates, though the Frenchman was considered a traitor.

  She heard a great shout go up and looked again towards the palace.

  Meliadus and Adaz Promp were riding into Castle Huon. Victory was clearly in sight.

  Chapter Nine - The Slaying of King Huon

  BARON MELIADUS RODE his black charger full tilt through the echoing corridors of King Huon's palace.

  He had been here many times before and always in humility or apparent humility. Now his snarling wolf visor was proud and a battle-cry roared from Meliadus's throat as he drove his way through the Mantis Guards whom once he had been forced to fear. He struck about him with the great black broadsword he had wielded so Well in Huon's service. He made his horse rear and its hooves, which had trampled the ground of a score of conquered lands, struck down on insect helms and made long necks snap.

  Meliadus laughed. Meliadus roared. Meliadus galloped for the Throne Room where the remnants of the defenders were gathering. He saw them at the far end of the corridor attempting to bring up a flame cannon.

  With a dozen mounted Wolves behind him he did not pause but struck directly at the cannon before its surprised operators could move. Six heads flew from their necks in as many seconds and all the artillerymen were dead. Flame lance beams shrieked around the black wolf helm, but Meliadus ignored them. The eyes of his horse were red with battle-madness and it plunged forward at the foe.

  Meliadus pressed back the Mantis Guards, hacking them down. They died convinced that he had supernatural powers.

  But it was wild energy, the elation of war, driving Meliadus of Kroiden through the massive gates of the Throne Room to find the few remaining guards in confusion. All possible men had been used to defend the gates. Now as the Mantis warriors advanced cautiously, spears outraised, Meliadus shouted his laughter at them and rode through them before they could move, galloping towards the Throne Globe where earlier he had crawled.

  The black globe shimmered and gradually the wizened shape of the immortal King Emperor became visible. The little foetus shape wriggled like a mal-formed fish, dashing back and forth across the confining bowl that was its life. It was undefended. It was helpless.

  It had never believed that it would need to protect itself against such treachery. Even it, in all its two thousand years of wisdom, had not been able to conceive that a Granbretanian noble would turn against his hereditary ruler.

  "Meliadus . . ." There was fear in the golden voice.

  "Meliadus—you are insane. Listen—it is your King Emperor speaking to you. I order you to leave this place, to withdraw your troops, to swear your loyalty to me. Meliadus!"

  The black eyes, once so sardonic, were now full of animal fear. The prehensile tongue flickered like that of a snake, the enfeebled, useless hands and feet flapped.

  "Meliadus!"

  Shaking with triumphant laughter Meliadus drew back his great broadsword and struck at the Throne Globe. He felt a shock run the length of his body as the blade crashed into the globe. There was a white explosion, a wailing cry, a sound of shards falling to the floor and the splattering of fluid against Meliadus's body.

  He blinked his eyes, expecting to look down upon the twisted, tiny frame of his slain King Emperor. He says nothing but deep blackness.

  His laughter changed to a scream of terror.

  "By Huon's Teeth! I AM BLIND!"

  Chapter Ten - The Heroes Ride Out

  "THE FORT BURNS well," said Oladahn, turning back in his saddle to look for the last time upon the garrison.

  It had contained a force of Rat infantry but now not one lived save the commander who would take his time in dying for the citizens of the town had crucified him on the scaffold where he had crucified so many of their husbands, wives and children.

  Six mirror helms now looked forward to the horizon as Hawkmoon, Yisselda, Count Brass, D'Averc, Oladahn and Bowgentle rode away from the town at the head of five hundred Kamargian name lancers.

  Their first encounter since leaving Kamarg had been a complete victory. With surprise on their side they had wiped out the skeleton garrison in less than half an hour.


  Feeling little elation, but with no sense of exhaustion, Hawkmoon led his comrades on towards the next town where they had heard they might find more Granbretanians to kill.

  But then he reined his horse as he saw a rider galloping towards them and realised that it was Orland Fank, his battle-axe bouncing on his brawny back.

  "Greetings, friends! I have some news for you—an explanation. The beasts have fallen upon each other.

  There is civil war in Granbretan. Londra itself is the main battleground with Baron Meliadus in arms against King Huon. Thousands have been slain so far."

  "So that is why there are so few here," Hawkmoon said, removing his mirror helm and wiping his forehead with a silken kerchief. He had worn armour rarely in the past months and he had not yet got used to the dis-comfort. "They have all been recalled to defend King Huon."

  "Or to fight with Meliadus. It is to our advantage, don't you think?"

  "I do," Count Brass broke in gruffly, his voice more excited than usual, "for that means they are killing each other and improving the odds a little in our favour.

  While they battle, we move swiftly to the Silver Bridge, crossing it and reaching the very shores of Granbretan herself! Luck is with us, Master Fank."

  "Luck—or fate—or destiny," Fank said lightly, "call it what you will."

  "Then had we best not ride swiftly to the sea?" Yisselda said.

  "Aye," Hawkmoon said. "Swiftly—to take advantage of their confusion."

  "A sensible idea," Fank nodded. "And being a sensible man myself, I believe I will ride with you."

  "You are most welcome, Master Fank."

  Chapter Eleven - News of Several Sorts

  MELIADUS LAY GASPING on the stretcher as Kalan bent over him probing at his blind eyes with his instruments. His voice was a mixture of pain and fury. "What is it, Kalan?" he groaned. "Why am I blind?"

  "Simply the intensity of the light released during the explosion," Kalan said. "Your sight should be restored in a day or so."

  "In a day or so! I need to see. I need to consolidate my gains. I need to make sure that there are no counter-plots hatched against me. I need to convince the other barons to swear loyalty to Flana now and then to find out what Hawkmoon is up to. My plans—my plans—are they to be all destroyed!"

  "Most of the barons have decided to support your Cause," Kalan told him. "There is little they can do. Only Jerek Nankenseen and the Flies represent a serious threat and Brenal Farnu is with him—but Farnu virtually has no Order left. Most of the Rats died in the early fighting. Adaz Promp is even now chasing Rats and Flies from the city."

  "No Rats left," said Meliadus, suddenly thoughtful.

  "How many dead in all, d'you think, Kalan?"

  "About half the fighting men of Granbretan."

  "Half? Have I destroyed half our warriors? Half our strength?"

  "Was it not worth it for the victory you have won?"

  Meliadus's blind face stared up at the ceiling. "Aye—I suppose so..."

  Now he sat upright on the stretcher. "But I must justify the deaths of those who fell, Kalan. I did it for Granbretan—to rid the world of Hawkmoon and the scum from Castle Brass. I must succeed or, Kalan, I cannot justify weakening the Dark Empire's fighting force to such a degree!"

  "Have no fear on that score," Kalan told him with a faint smile, "for I have been working on another of my machines."

  "A new weapon?"

  "An old one, made to function again."

  "What is that?"

  Kalan chuckled. "The Machine of the Black Jewel, Baron Meliadus. Hawkmoon shall soon feel the power of the Black Jewel as it begins to eat his brain."

  A slow, satisfied smile crossed Meliadus's lips. "Oh, Kalan—at last!"

  Kalan pressed Meliadus back against the stretcher. He began to rub ointment on the baron's blind eyes. "Rest now and dream of your revenge, old friend. We shall enjoy it together."

  Kalan looked up suddenly. A courier had entered the small room. "What is it? What news?"

  The courier was panting. "I have come from the mainland, your excellency. I have news of Hawkmoon and his men."

  "What of them?" Again Meliadus rose up from the stretcher, the ointment dripping down his cheeks, careless that a minion should see him unmasked. "What of Hawkmoon?"

  "They ride for the Silver Bridge, my lord."

  "They plan to invade Granbretan?" Meliadus was in-credulous. "How many men have they? What is the size of their army?"

  "Five hundred horsemen, my lord."

  Meliadus began to laugh.

  Chapter Twelve - The New Queen

  KALAN LED MELIADUS up the steps towards a throne now replacing the sinister Globe. On the throne sat Flana Mikosevaar in a jewelled heron mask, a crown upon her head, the robes of state upon her body. And before Flana Mikosevaar kneeled all those nobles loyal to her.

  "Behold," Meliadus said in a voice booming coarse and proud through the vast hall, "your new Queen. Under Queen Flana you will be great—greater than you have dreamed. Under Queen Flana a new age will bloom—an age of laughing madness and roaring pleasure, the sort of pleasure we of Granbretan hold dear. The world shall be our toy!"

  The ceremony progressed, with each noble in turn swearing his allegiance to Queen Flana. And when at length it was finished, Baron Meliadus spoke again.

  "Where is Adaz Promp, Chief Warlord of the Armies of Granbretan?"

  Promp spoke up. "Here I am, my lord, and I thank you for the honour you do me." This was the first time Meliadus had mentioned Promp's reward—command over all other commanders, save Meliadus himself.

  "Will you report how the rebels fare, Adaz Promp?"

  "There are few left, my lord. Those Flies we have not swatted are dispersed and their Grand Constable, Jerek Nankenseen, is dead. I slew him myself. Brenal Farnu and the few remaining Rats have bolted into holes somewhere in Sussex and will soon be flushed out. All others have united in their loyalty to Queen Flana."

  "That is satisfactory, Adaz Promp, and I am pleased.

  And what of Hawkmoon's laughable force. Does it still progress towards us?"

  "So our ornithopter scouts report, my lord. They will soon be ready to cross the Silver Bridge."

  Meliadus chuckled. "Let them cross. Let them come at least half the distance, then we shall wipe them out. Kalan, how do you manage with the machine?"

  "It is almost ready, my lord."

  "Good. Now we must set off for Deau-Vere to welcome Hawkmoon and his friends. Come, my captains, come."

  And Meliadus was led back down the steps by Kalan and along the hall until he came to the great gates—the gates guarded not by Mantis warriors, but by Wolves and Vultures. Meliadus regretted he could not see them and thus savour his triumph the more.

  After the doors had closed behind him, Flana sat frozen on her throne and thought of D'Averc. She had tried to speak of him to Meliadus, but he had not heard her. Would he be killed? she wondered.

  She thought, also, of what had befallen her. Alone among the nobles of Granbretan, save Shenegar Trott, she had read many old texts, some of which were legends and alleged histories of the years before the Tragic Millennium, She believed, whatever became of herself and Meliadus, that she now presided over a court entering its last stages of decadence. The wars of expan-sion, the internal strife—all were signs of a nation in its death throes, and though that death might not come for another two hundred years, or five hundred, or a thousand, she knew that the Dark Empire was doomed.

  She prayed that something better would emerge to take its place.

  Chapter Thirteen - "What Do You See?"

  MELIADUS HELD THE reins of his herald's horse. "You must not leave me, boy. You must tell me what you see and I must plan the battle accordingly."

  "I will tell you, my lord."

  "Good. Are the troops all assembled?"

  "They are, my lord. They await your signal."

  "And is that cur Hawkmoon in sight yet?"

  "Figures have been
seen riding towards us across the Silver Bridge. They will ride directly into our ranks, unless they flee."

  Meliadus grunted. "They will not flee—not Hawkmoon—not now. Can you see them yet?"

  "I see a flash like silver—like a heliograph signal-one—two—three, four—five—six. The sun makes them shine so. Six silver mirrors. I wonder what it can mean?"

  "The sun on polished spears?"

  "I think not, my lord."

  "Well, we shall soon know."

  "Yes, my lord."

  "What now?"

  "Now I see six riders, my lord, at the head of a mass of cavalry. Each rider is crowned with flashing silver.

  Why, my lord, it is their helmets that shine!"

  "Are they well-polished, then?"

  "They are helms. They cover their faces. I—I can hardly bear to look upon them, they are so bright."

  "Strange. Still, doubtless the helmets will break quickly enough beneath our weapons. You have told them that Hawkmoon must be taken alive but they can kill the rest?"

  "I have, my lord."

  "Good."

  "And I told them what you said—that if Hawkmoon should clutch at his head and begin to act strangely they should tell you at once."

  "Excellent." Meliadus chuckled. "Excellent. I shall have my vengeance, either way."

  "They have almost reached the end of the bridge, my lord. They have seen us but they are not stopping."

  "Then give the signal to charge," Meliadus said.

  "Blow your trumpet, herald.

  "Are they charging, herald?"

  "They are, my lord."

  "And what now? Have the armies met?"

  "They have engaged, my lord,"

  "And what is happening?"

  "I am—I am uncertain, my lord—what with the flashing of those helmets and some—there is a peculiar red light spreading over the scene—there seem to be more men in Hawkmoon's army than we at first thought. Infantry—and some cavalry. By Huon's Teeth—I beg your pardon, my lord—by Flana's Breasts! They are the strangest warriors I have ever seen!"