The War Hound and the World's Pain

by Michael Moorcock

“Yet you will still kill me, eh?”

  The demon sat down in the fluid. He splashed at it with his taloned fingers. “Children and youths. This stuff is all that remains. There is not one soul in Bakinax—not one adult soul, that is—which is not already claimed. I will not kill you, mortal, unless you grow bored and want to fight. You are one of the few who has wished to talk. Most of them scream. The children, the youths and the maidens, I eat. It silences them. It entertains me. It feeds me for a little while. But I have more than enough. More than enough.”

  “But you will not release me from your lair?”

  “How can I? I am trapped here myself. A pact. It seemed worthwhile all that time ago.”

  “Who was the magus who trapped you?”

  “He was called Philander Groot. A cunning man. I roamed free before, across this whole kingdom. Now I am limited to Bakinax and this cage. Oh, I am so tired of the flavourless souls of the young.” He took some of the fluid up on his finger and sucked. He sighed.

  “But they fear you,” I said. “It is why they keep you here. They believe you will escape if they do not placate you.”

  The demon said: “Is that not always the way with Men? What must I represent to them, I wonder?”

  I leaned, as best I could, against the wall of the sphere. I was growing used to the smell. “Well, they will not release you and they will not release me unless I kill you. You have food. I have not. I must starve to death, it seems, or destroy you.”

  The demon looked up at me. “I have no desire to kill you, mortal. It would give offence to our Master, would it not? Your time is not yet arrived.”

  “I believe that,” I said. “For I am upon a mission directly instructed by Lucifer.”

  “Then we have a dilemma,” said the demon.

  I thought for a moment. “I could attempt to exorcise you,” I told him. “That would at least release you from the sphere. Where would you go?”

  “Directly back to Hell.”

  “Where you would wish to be.”

  “I never want to leave Hell again,” said the demon feelingly.

  “I am no expert at exorcism.”

  “They have attempted to exorcise me, but those already pledged to Hell, whether they know it or not, cannot bid me leave.”

  “Therefore I cannot exorcise you either.”

  “It would seem so.”

  “We have reached impasse again,” I said.

  The demon lowered its head and sighed a deeper sigh than the first. “Aye.”

  “What if I killed you?” I said. “Where would your own soul go?”

  “Oblivion. I would rather not die, Sir Knight.”

  “Yet I was told the door will open only after I have slain you. “

  “Since nobody has slain me, how are they to know that?”

  “Perhaps Philander Groot told them.”

  I brooded on the problem for a while. “The door must be opened eventually, to admit my companion, who is to be your next victim. Why cannot we escape when his turn comes?”

  “It might be possible for you to escape,” said the demon. ”But I am trapped by more than metal. There is the pact, you see, with the magus. Were I to break it, I would be destroyed instantly.”

  “Therefore only Philander Groot can release you.”

  “That is so.”

  “And Philander Groot has become a hermit, dwelling in a far kingdom.”

  “I have heard as much.”

  “Inevitably I am led to the logic,” I said, “that my only means of escape is by killing you. And I know that my chances of doing so are virtually nothing.”

  “I am very strong,” said the demon, by way of confirmation, “and also extremely fierce.”

  “I think that my only hope,” I told him, “is to wait until the hour is up and, when my friend is sent to join us, attempt to leave by the door.”

  “It would seem so,” agreed the demon. “But they would kill you anyway, would they not?”

  “That is a strong likelihood.”

  The demon brooded for a moment. “I am trying to think of another solution, one which would benefit us both.”

  “Not to mention the remaining children and virgins of Bakinax,” I said.

  “Of course,” said the demon. He became nostalgic. “Are there any Tatars left, do you know?”

  “A few. They are protected against you by a Genie they have.”

  “The one in the jar?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Aha.” He frowned. “I was fond of Tatars.”

  It was beginning to seem to me that the supernatural creatures of this land were somewhat ineffectual beings. I wondered if not only the Mittelmarch but the whole of Hell was in decline. Or perhaps the powers had been marshalled to cope with the Civil War which Klosterheim had said was raging between Lucifer and His Dukes.

  I thought I detected a movement overhead. I stretched out my hand to the demon. He placed his own scaly fingers in mine. “Would you oblige me,” I asked him, “by allowing me to stand upon your shoulders so that when the door is opened I will be able to escape?”

  “By all means,” said the demon, “if you will agree one thing: should you escape and find Philander Groot again, tell him that I guarantee that if he will break the bond I will go home immediately and never venture into the regions of the Earth again.”

  “The likelihood,” I said honestly, “of my seeing Groot is slender. However, I give my word that if I should meet him again, or be in a position to get a message to him, I will tell him what you have told me.”

  “Then I wish you Lucifer’s luck,” said the demon, bending so that I might climb upon his back. “And I hope that you kill that Great Magistrate who has caused me so much boredom.”

  The door was opening. I heard guards laughing. I heard Sedenko cursing.

  His face appeared above me. I put my finger to my lips. His eyes widened in amazement. I whispered: “Draw your sword now. We are going to try to fight our way clear …”

  “But—” began Sedenko.

  “Do not question me,” I said.

  The Kazak shrugged and called back. “Wait, fellows, while I free my blade!”

  The sabre was in his hand. I drew my own sword as the demon began to lift me higher towards the door. I took hold of the sill and jumped through, past Sedenko, lunging at the nearest guard and taking him in the heart. Two more fell to me before they realised what had happened. The remaining three set upon me and Sedenko and would have been finished easily, had I not been distracted by Sedenko’s agitated gesturing. I turned to glance in the direction he pointed.

  Klosterheim was there, mounted on a heavy black charger. At his back were twenty mounted suits of armour, glowing with eery black fire. Here were the demons-at-arms of Arioch, Duke of Hell.

  For a moment I was tempted to scramble back into the sphere.

  Klosterheim was laughing at me as he waited for the fight to end.

  I killed one more guard and Sedenko sliced apart the other two.

  Behind us, out of the open sphere, came the stench of rotting souls. Before us was the face of a triumphant Klosterheim and his impassive minions.

  “We are certainly doomed,” murmured Sedenko.

  I had by now memorised the spell which held back these riders. I dismissed Sedenko’s fears. I raised my hand:

  “Rehoim Farach Nyadah!”

  Klosterheim continued to laugh. Then he stopped and raised his own hand: “Niever Oahr Shuk Arnjoija!” His expression was challenging. “I have neutralized your spell, von Bek. Do you think I have wasted the past year in wondering how you stopped my men the last time?”

  “So you have us,” I said.

  “I have you. I knew your destination. I knew you must come through this land, for you are seeking the Holy Grail in the Forest at the Edge of Heaven. You will never see that forest now, von Bek.”

  “How goes the War in Hell?” I said.

  Klosterheim sat back in his saddle. “Well enough,” he
told me. “Lucifer is weakening. He retires. He will not fight. Our allies increase. You were a fool not to join me when I offered you the chance.”

  “I accepted a task,” I said. “I knew that I had little hope of achieving it. But a bargain is a bargain. And Lucifer holds my soul, not you, Klosterheim.”

  A shadow fell suddenly across the whole town. I looked up and saw the strangest sight I had yet met in Hell or the Mittelmarch. A huge black cat was looking down on us. If he had moved one paw or flicked his tail, he could have destroyed the entire city. I thought at first that this was another of Klosterheim’s allies, but it became plain that the witch-seeker was as surprised as were we.

  “What have you conjured now, von Bek?” he said. He was disconcerted. Then he cursed at something he had seen behind us.

  Sedenko turned first, yelling in astonishment. There was a great twittering: the kind of sound starlings make in the evening. I looked back.

  A chariot, of bronze and silver, was drifting down through the sky towards us, drawn by thousands of small golden birds.

  “Attack them!” cried Klosterheim. He drove his horse towards the platform, the black riders a mass of glowing metal in his wake.

  As the chariot settled onto the platform, Klosterheim leapt his horse onto it and came riding directly at me. I parried his first blow. The armoured minions of Duke Arioch were dismounting, lumbering up the steps towards us. We were driven back rapidly.

  I heard a voice from the chariot. It was a gentle, chiding, half-mocking voice. It said:

  “Demon of the Sphere, I release thee from thy bondage on the condition thou hast made and on the further condition that you fight these enemies of your Master’s, for they conspire against Lucifer.”

  In spite of the danger I turned my head. The little man in the chariot tugged at his beard and bowed to me. I caught the odour of Hungary Water. I saw lace and velvet. It was Philander Groot himself. “Will you join me, gentlemen?” he asked politely. “I think that Bakinax is about to become a battlefield and it will be no sight for sensitive men.”

  Sedenko needed no further invitation. He was running hell-bent-for-leather towards the chariot. I followed him.

  From out of the sphere, blinking and snarling, came the demon. He screamed his exultation. His scales clashed and began to glow. He laughed in hideous joy. And I saw a snarling Klosterheim still riding at us, still determined to kill me, even as we climbed into Groot’s chariot.

  Now the Demon of the Sphere and the Knights of Duke Arioch were joined in battle. It seemed to me an unequal match, but the demon was accounting well for himself.

  Klosterheim’s horse reared beneath us as we rose into the air, pulled by the little birds. His teeth were bared. He cried out almost as a child might cry out when it has been deprived of some favourite food.

  The last I saw of the witch-seeker, he had leapt his horse from the platform and was riding away from the terrifying carnage taking place on the platform. I saw two armoured knights flung so far that they crashed into the Court. Bricks and stone collapsed. A horrible fire began to flicker wherever Duke Arioch’s knights fell.

  Then, beneath the tranquil stare of that great black cat, we passed beyond Bakinax and over the red plain.

  “I planned none of this,” said Philander Groot, as if he apologised to us. “But I knew that the state of balance which I had achieved could not last. I am glad to see that you are well, gentlemen.”

  I was speechless. The dandy raised an eyebrow. “You are doubtless wondering why I am here. Well, I spent some time contemplating your story, Captain von Bek, and contemplating my old decision to remove myself from the affairs of Men, Gods and Demons. Then I considered the nature of your Quest and, you must forgive me this, I decided that I would like a part in it. It seemed momentous.”

  “I had no idea that you were so great a magus,” I told him.

  “You are very kind. I have had the sense, of late, that important events are taking place everywhere. Vain creature that I am, and growing a little bored, I must admit, with the Valley of the Golden Cloud and its decent moderation, I thought I might once again see if I could make use of my old powers, though I regard them, as I am sure do you, as childish and vulgar.”

  “I regard them as Heaven-sent,” I told him.

  He was amused. “Well, they are not that, Captain von Bek. They are not that.”

  The dandy was silent for a little while as we continued on our journey through the upper air. Then he spoke more seriously than was his wont. “At present,” he said, “no soldier of the Dukes of Hell can pass into the ordinary Realm of Earth. But should Lucifer be defeated, there will be a wild carelessness come upon Creation and it will be the end of the world, indeed. There will be no single Anti-Christ, though Klosterheim could be said to represent them all. There will be open warfare, in every region, between Heaven and Hell. It will be Armageddon, gentlemen, as has been predicted. Mankind will perish. And I believe, no matter what the Christian Bible predicts, that the outcome will be uncertain.”

  “But Lucifer does not wish to make war on God,” I said.

  “The decision could be Lucifer’s no longer. Nor God’s. Perhaps both have lost their authority.”

  “And the Grail?” said I. “What part can the Grail play in all this?”

  “Perhaps none at all,” said Groot. “Perhaps it is no more than a diversion.”

  Chapter XIV

  PHILANDER GROOT’S CHARIOT came to earth eventually on a quiet hillside overlooking a valley which reminded me very much of my own lost Bek.

  In the valley a village was burning and I could see black smoke rising from farmsteads and mills. Dark figures with brands marched across the landscape, setting fire to anything which would ignite. It was familiar enough to me. I had ordered such destruction many times myself.

  “Are we still in the Mittelmarch?” I asked the dandy. “Or have we returned to our own Realm?”

  “It is the Mittelmarch,” he said, “but it could as easily be the ordinary Earth, you know. There is very little now which is not destroyed or threatened.”

  “And all this,” I said, “because Lucifer sent me upon a Quest for the Grail!”

  “Not quite.” Groot motioned with his hand and the chariot ascended again into the air. He said as an aside: “That will be the last we shall see of that, I fear. Mostly such things are leased by the Powers of Darkness, even if not used in their work. Did you know that, Captain von Bek?”

  “I did not.”

  “Now that I am no longer of the Grey Lords, as those of us who are neutral are named by Hell, I do not expect to conjure things so easily.” He paused, smoothing back his little moustache. “You are an unusual man, captain, but your Quest has not brought all this about. Lucifer’s decision to attempt peace with His Creator is what has exacerbated a crisis which has been in the making since at least the Birth of Christ. The lines have become confused, you see. The pagan faiths are all but destroyed. Buddha, Christ and Mahomet have seen to that. To many the death of paganism heralded the coming decay of the world (and I will not elaborate, for it is a sophisticated theme, though it does not sound it). We have given up responsibility, either to God or to Lucifer. I am not sure that God demands that of us, nor am I sure that He wishes it. Nothing is certain in the universe, captain.”

  “Nothing will be gained if I discover the Cure for the World’s Pain?”

  “I do not know. Perhaps the Grail is no more than a bartering tool in a game so mysterious that not even the two main participants understand its rules. But there again, I could be utterly wrong. Know this, however: Klosterheim is now more powerful than you begin to realise. Do not think, because his pride made him bring the same twenty knights who lost you before, that he can command only twenty. He is now one of the main generals of rebellious Hell. Your Quest, you will recall, is the ostensible cause of that rebellion. They will stop you if they can, Captain von Bek. Or they will take the Grail from you if you find it.”

  “But w
ith you to help, magus,” said Sedenko, “we stand a better chance.”

  Groot smiled at him. “Do not underestimate Klosterheim, gentlemen. And do not overestimate me. What little I know has been worked for. It has been wrested away from others, the power itself. They can claim much back, whenever they wish. My conjuring tricks with genies and demons are small things. They are pathetic in the eyes of Hell. Now I have not much left. But I will travel with you, if I may, for my curiosity is great and I would know what befalls you. We are a day or two farther on in the journey towards the Forest at the Edge of Heaven, and I fancy we shall see little of Klosterheim for a while. He must have lost some valuable knights in that brawl at Bakinax. But when he comes again into our ken he will come with far more power than he has ever possessed in the past.”

  “Everything that is fantastic leagues against me,” I said, repeating Klosterheim’s warning.

  “Aye. Everything that is fantastic is threatened. Some believe all these marvels you have witnessed to be productions of the World’s Pain. Without that Pain, some say, they would not be necessary. They would not exist.”

  “You suggest that mankind’s needs create them?”

  “Man is a rationalizing beast, if not a rational one,” said Philander Groot. “Come, there are horses waiting for us in yonder spinney.”

  We followed him down the hill a little way, and sure enough the horses were there. As we mounted, Groot chatted urbanely, telling anecdotes of people he had known and places he had visited, for all the world as if we went on a merry holiday. We rode along the crown of the hills, avoiding the soldiers in the valley below, and continued through the night until we were well past it. Only then did we think of resting. We came to a crossroads in the moonlight. Philander Groot considered the signs. “There,” he said at last. He pointed to the post which said: To Wolfshaben, 3 miles.

  “Do you know Wolfshaben, captain? Herr Sedenko?”

  We both told him that we did not.

  “An excellent town. If you take pleasure in women you will want to visit the harlotry they have there. I will entertain myself at the harlotry, where the beds are anyway more comfortable.”