Swords & Dark Magic

by Jonathan Strahan; Lou Anders

  Almost immediately, Lady Fernrath’s servants, all of ordinary human appearance, emerged, taking their outer garments, showing them to guest rooms, helping them to bathe and put on slightly scented fresh, cool robes. Each guest was assigned at least one servant. Only Moonglum was not used to this and took considerable pleasure in the luxury.

  Nauha remarked that the fountains and the walls felt to her, though she could not be sure why, like the work of a desert people. “You must think me naïve!”

  Lady Fernrath bowed her head, denying this. “I believe they were from some desert place, yes.” She spoke vaguely.

  It was not long, as they took wine prior to dinner, before Moonglum raised the question of the pirates and in particular their king. He laughed. “He did not make his business clear, though at first we thought he might attack and prepared for the worst.”

  “You were wise to do so, Master Moonglum. Your instincts did not betray you. Oh, it’s clear enough, I would guess, what Addric Heed does for a living.” She laughed, perhaps bitterly. “He is a pirate and a slaver. A tradesman! A creature born to the highest blood of all—of all—reducing himself to such filthy work!” Her mood changed as she glared into the middle distance. Dark green-gold stars flickered in the depths of her pale eyes. “A thief; corrupt as any human you’ll find here. A betrayer and destroyer of his own kin! A slaver! A tradesman!” She spoke as a woman obsessed. “And his crew is worse. Why even that remaining ship of his is an act of cruel betrayal…”

  She lifted her long head like an angry beast. Her robes seemed independently agitated. She broke off, remembering her manners. “He is—he has—” She drew a long, slow breath. “It’s said he has pacts with the Lords of the Balance. Yet why they would trust him or use him I have no idea!” Her voice took on a light, dismissive tone. She clapped her hands and ordered another decanter of wine. “Here’s one from our own vineyards I hope you’ll find palatable.”

  Moonglum would have asked more about Addric Heed if he could, but no further opportunity came. Then a little later, their hostess saw him yawn discretely behind his hand. “You’ll be my guests here, I hope, while you stay in Hizss? I should have mentioned it sooner how welcome you are at my house.”

  “You are kind, madam.” Before either of the others could answer, Elric accepted for them all.

  “I have my lady friend,” Moonglum murmured, a little embarrassed.

  “Then, of course, she must be sent for, too. It is so rare for me to receive guests at the best of times. And such rare guests! From so far away. From the exotic World Below!” She gave the servants appropriate orders. They should go with the driver to the ship and bring all their things, as well as Moonglum’s lady, back with them.

  But when the servants returned with their luggage and Elric’s light armour, it was to report that the wench had indeed been waiting on the ship for Moonglum, but she had chosen to remain on board ship. She sent a message to Moonglum, saying that she was happier there and likely to remain so.

  On hearing this, Moonglum flushed and turned away for a moment. Then, bowing to Lady Fernrath, he said that while he appreciated her invitation he felt he should return to the ship and see to the well-being of his friend.

  “I understand,” said Lady Fernrath. “I do hope she finds our air more agreeable in the morning.”

  The sun was setting now and Moonglum thought he saw a hint of pale scales under her neck, but it was surely no more than a trick of the light. Somewhat subdued and doing all he could to hide his emotion, the Eastlander climbed into the carriage and left again for the ship he’d hoped not to see for another few days at least. That his wench should take to pouting now was not to be tolerated. He decided to give her a piece of his mind. And he could not be wholly certain she wouldn’t try to steal something of local value from his luggage. He was in such poor temper that he almost forgot the swords he had left in his chamber above.

  With Moonglum’s absence, the Princess of Uyt felt a little removed from the company, though Lady Fernrath did all that should be expected to put her at her ease.

  “And how fares my brother Sadric?” asked their hostess when they were settled on the couches again. “Has his temper or his attitude towards you improved, my lord?”

  Elric shook his head briefly. “The Emperor died still voicing disappointment at my failings of moral courage.” His voice held a trace of irony, but was without emotion. “The succession lay between myself and my cousin, you’ll recall. How we behaved upon our respective dreamquests would determine who ascended the throne of the Dragon Empire. I believe I was chosen not from any sense of fitness but because I made fewer mistakes—in Sadric’s eyes, at least!” Another faint, sardonic smile.

  As the sun came closer to the horizon, the woman removed the gauze visor to reveal eyes of pale green-gold, but, when her milk-white hair fell from below her scarf, it was clear she was also an albino. She noticed Nauha’s look of surprise and laughed. Nauha blurted: “Forgive me, my lady, I had not realised you were related. You are the Emperor Sadric’s sister?”

  “My sister married him,” she answered softly, while Elric frowned at his lover’s rather sudden interruption.

  Lady Fernrath waved away any imagined rudeness but leaned towards the albino. “So, Elric, is Yyrkoon emperor now?”

  “I killed him. My father named me his successor but Yyrkoon was uneasy with the decision. And he disapproved of my betrothal.”

  “Your betrothed was not high-born?”

  “She was his sister. I killed her also.”

  “You loved her?”

  “After a fashion.” His expression became unreadable. “I am surprised you had not heard. Most of my world knows the story so well…”

  “I had not understood you to be such close relatives.” There was some relief in Nauha’s voice.

  “Aye,” said Lady Fernrath, sipping with relish a glass of grey-green wine. “None closer. Blood relatives.”

  On hearing this, a mysterious expression passed across Princess Nauha’s face but was quickly controlled. Elric, noticing this, seemed for a moment amused.

  Then suddenly the princess felt as if a gate had shut against her. She followed them up onto the terrace to dine as the moon came out. The marble and alabaster took on a greenish tinge, touched with gold, and even Lady Fernrath’s features offered a faint reflection of colour, but not, Princess Nauha noticed, Elric’s.

  As soon as Nauha was able, she blamed the change of environment for her tiredness. Then she, too, graciously begged their pardon, saying she was poor company and could see they had much to talk about on family matters. She did not add how the fact that they had increasingly dropped into High Melnibonéan speech as the evening grew older had decidedly helped give that impression.

  All went according to the best protocol, but afterwards, in her room, the Uyt princess allowed herself one small growl of rage until her maid had gone and, weeping, she took hopelessly to her bed and lay upon it, staring at the oddly ornamented ceiling, trying to control her wounded feelings. She knew he would not even consider explaining himself when he joined her. She would be lucky, she thought, if she ever saw him again. This took her mind from her own anger and made her recall that she also feared for him.

  Princess Nauha had studied the occult under Uyt’s wisest scholars and knew a witch when she smelt one. She was very glad she had brought her swords with her and that they were with her armour in her luggage. She might at least save her own life, she thought, but she was not sure she would be needed to save the albino’s. Did the fool understand he was in danger? Or—realisation came suddenly—was she the only visitor in danger here?

  Was it coincidence that Elric had brought her with him to Hizss? He had told her nothing of this relative—if relative was all she was—had told her of no plans to visit. Clearly, he had known she would be here. He had hinted at something only a short time before they reached the port. Had he some disgusting plan for the three of them? Or did the sorceress mean to bewitch them
both? Or had Elric been bewitched since the moment he had decided to take ship for the edge of the world?

  Nauha carefully inspected the room and the garden beyond for ways out of the grounds. Then she took out her armour and laid it upon the floor. Then she polished her sword and dagger, ensuring they would slip easily from their scabbards.

  Then she lay down again. She controlled her breathing, forcing herself to think as coolly as she could. A little more relaxed, she next began to wonder if the wine had not been over-strong. There was nothing sinister about the night, after all. Indeed it was beautiful, as were the city and the house. Yet why had all the ports they had seen, she wondered, been so heavily fortified? But not this one?

  She drew a long, deep breath. It was stupid to brood on all this, particularly now her swords were stowed close to hand. She was perfectly well prepared to take on any danger that might present itself. She was certain that clean steel could cope with any ordinary foreign witchery.

  The Phoorn’s Bargain

  “I heard you had found the White Sword,” Elric said to Lady Fernrath as soon as they were alone together.

  She laughed easily, with genuine humour. “And that’s why you are here?”

  He saw no purpose in lying. “You have it? Oh, I see from your eyes that you do. Or know where it is, at least.” He spoke with quiet humour. But he could feel intimations of what he feared, his energy slipping slowly away and little to replenish it, save Stormbringer.

  This time she made no reply. She lay back on her couch and stared up at the stars. Then, after a while, she said: “You have heard of the Eyes of Hemric, otherwise known as the Eyes of the Skaradin?”

  “An even vaguer legend than that of the White Sword. Hemric? Skaradin? Some serpent from your world’s hinterland?”

  “I know where they can be found. I do not need to search for them, young prince. They are, however, the blade’s price.” She turned in the moonlight and looked at him, suddenly hungry for something. Her eyes had taken on a deeper, harder green, even her voice had changed timbre, was oddly accented. “Red pearls. But you need not win them for me, my lord. They are, however, the price of the blade.” She moved restlessly on her couch. “Blood pearls, they call them…There are two. I desire them…I desire…Do you remember when we first met, Prince Elric?”

  “I remember my dreamquest. I was scarcely more than a boy. My father sent me to seek you and bring back my mother’s jade dagger.”

  “Oh, Elric, you were a comely lad when I saw you surrounded by three of those golden warriors from another plane entirely, who used to inhabit these parts. We drew so much more energy from those alien places. So much material…You had no famous sword at that time. I gave you the jade dagger…”

  “You did not ask me then to pay you for it.”

  She smiled reminiscently. “Oh, you paid me. Did your father ever tell you why he wanted it?”

  “Never. I think he sought it simply because it had belonged to my mother. But you saved my life.”

  “You were ever to my taste.” Her mouth seemed to have widened now, revealing rather too many teeth. They were sharper, too, while her tongue—that tongue…

  He roused himself. “So you will sell me the White Sword for those red pearls? Nothing else? You know what that sword means to me. It could free me from my dependency…”

  “Just so. Nothing else. I possess the Sword of Law. And I know where to find the pearls.”

  “Lady Fernrath, I did not travel this far to bargain. What do you take me for? Like you, I despise merchants. Besides, I know nothing of this world. How could I begin to look for what you want?” Was there, he wondered, some way he could get to Stormbringer? He had come here following a legend, a memory, something he had heard of long before the Black Sword was his. He remembered one of his first dreamquests and the woman he had met here on the other side of the world, whom he remembered as a friend. Since then, Lady Fernrath had changed or, perhaps he had been naïve, too inexperienced to see her for what she was. Now his desire to be independent of Stormbringer could be further destroying his judgement. With that blade he had killed the only other creature he had ever truly loved. A wave of profound regret swept over him. He sighed, turning away from Fernrath. “My lady…”

  She rose from the couch and, as she did so, she seemed to grow larger, her gown taking on greater substance. A heat—or it might have been an intense cold—came out of her, strong enough to burn him if he touched her. He remembered those nights. Those terrifying, fascinating nights, when she had introduced him to all the secrets of his ancestors—the real reason, he guessed, why his father had sent him upon his dreamquest. Or so she had told him. Now she said otherwise. He frowned. Why did she lie to him now? Or had she lied to him then? “Madam. I must go. I can’t do what you desire of me.”

  That great, reptilian face glared down at him. “You are my sister’s son. Your blood demands you help me! You come here seeking the White Sword when you already possess the Black. And you did not know there would be a price? Have you forgotten all loyalty to your own, Prince Elric?”

  “I did not know what you would demand.” He sounded feeble to his own ears.

  She drew a strong breath and seemed to grow again.

  Elric moved nervously on his couch, wishing he had his sword with him now. He was becoming alarmed. Somehow he needed to renew his energy. He had so few resources left. Lady Fernrath’s skin was no longer white but had taken on a gold-green sheen, while her hair moved under its own volition. He feared her in a way he had not when he first came to Hizss, existing in two worlds at the same time, visiting as a courtesy, he thought, the sister of his mother, whom Sadric had loved to distraction. Elric had learned more than he had wished to know. Of his ancestry. Of the people called the Phoorn, who even now lived on in Melniboné, who had not been scattered as the others had been scattered, or killed as his cousins and his other relatives had almost all been killed, after he had brought the sea reavers to destroy Imrryr.

  Then he had loved the Phoorn as he loved them still. They had made alliances when they first discovered this world, coming as exiles to found a civilisation which would be based on notions of justice until then unknown to most gods or mortals. They had, by some vast supernatural alchemy, interbred, though their offspring usually took one form or the other, not both. It was not always possible to predict what would emerge from a Phoorn egg or, indeed, a human womb. Yet, Lady Fernrath had told him of the shape-changers, those few who could be what they willed themselves to be and who had, for centuries, continued their race. He owed much to her. He was wrong to begin fearing her now.

  “My lady, I would help you if I could, not because you would strike a bargain with me, but for the sake of our old alliances. I came here, after all, to ask a favour. And I would gladly do you a favour in return.”

  Her great Phoorn eyes softened. Her speech changed. She sounded affectionate again. “I should not have tried to bargain with you, Elric. But life here has changed a great deal since we last met. Though you never met them, I had a brother, a father, other kin. Over many centuries our world has grown corrupt. Wars were fought. You saw those fortified ports. Monstrous treacheries were conceived. Such appalling treachery…” Her tone became sad, reminiscent. “I need your help, Elric. There is something I have to do. One task before I die. A duty…” Perhaps she cast an enchantment on him, but he found himself sympathizing with her.

  Yet he was still wary, still unsure. “No need to bargain with me, my lady. We have an ancient blood pact. I would help you without reward if I could. But could you not have found a warrior here to help you?”

  “No. For none possesses what you own.”

  “You mean Stormbringer? I will fetch it from the ship. And my armour. I will tell Princess Nauha where I am going—”

  “My servant has already brought both sword and armour. No need to disturb the Princess of Uyt.”

  A darkness was filling the sky as deep clouds sailed in from the south. The night grew co
lder and the albino shivered, fearing further for Nauha’s safety.

  “Nobody here will harm her,” said the Phoorn. “But now I must venture into—take more substance—from—the—netherworld…” A noise like a whirlpool, running fast in high seas.

  He had difficulty seeing her now. His mind was less clear than before. The table seemed to have disappeared. The house was a black shadow, unlit.

  The sounds of the night had faded when her voice came again. He turned, peering into a void. Above him were two green-gold staring stars: passionless, cold. Her voice was still recognisable, yet hissed like waves on shingle:

  “Are you ready to go with me, Elric?”

  “You have my word.”

  Something fell at his feet then. He knew what it was and bent to pick it up. He buckled on his breastplate and greaves, settled his helmet on his head, attached the scabbard to his belt. When he straightened, scaled flesh, long and sinuous, stretched down out of the sky and he looked deeper into those green-gold eyes, knowing them for what and whose they were. At the base of her long, reptilian neck was a natural indentation in which a man might sit. It had not been long since, in the great Dragon Caves of his people, he had taken a carved Vilmirian saddle and placed it in just such an indentation. The Lady Fernrath, a shape-changer of a very specific kind, touched him affectionately with her long claw. While Elric had experienced her strange powers before, reliving the first coming together of their related races, he had never seen her change so rapidly. Nor, in all his adventures and his dreams, had he seen movement so rapid in any shape-changer from mammal to reptile, though the Phoorn were not true reptiles, any more than Melnibonéans were true humans. Both had come into being in other worlds under different gods and philosophies. Both had learned the virtues of the other. And then, at last, they had mated, though still in many ways alien one to the other. And these were the folk whom the Dragon Kings of Melniboné claimed as their ancestors. This was not the first time he had seen why in his world dragons were called “brother” or “sister” and treated with such complete respect, each conversing with the other, when they lived on altered time, so that it seemed to Melnibonéans that their dragons slept for years or decades.