The History of the Runestaff

by Michael Moorcock

  "And is adventure and sensation all we should seek, Meliadus?"

  "Aye—why not? All is chaos, there is no meaning to existence, there is only one advantage to living one's life and that is to discover all the sensations the human mind and body is capable of feeling. That will take at least a million years, surely?"

  Flana nodded. "That is our creed, true." She appeared to sigh. "Therefore I suppose I can agree to your plans, Meliadus, for what you suggest I do is doubtless no more boring than anything else." She shrugged.

  "Very well, I will be your Queen when you need me—and if Huon discovers our perfidy, why, it will be a relief to die."

  Slightly unnerved by this, Meliadus rose from the table. "You will say nothing to anyone until the time comes, Flana?"

  "I will say nothing."

  "Good. Now I must visit Kalan. He is attracted to my scheme, since it means more scope for his experiments if we succeed. Taragorm, too, is with me..."

  "You trust Taragorm? Your rivalry is well-known."

  "Aye— I hate Taragorm, it is true, and he hates me, but it is a mellow sort of hatred now, for you'll remember that our rivalry began over Taragorm's marriage to my sister whom I had previously intended to wed myself. But my sister compromised herself—with a jackass, I heard—and Taragorm discovered it. Whereupon, as you no doubt heard, my sister had her slaves slaughter her and the ass in some strange manner. Taragorm and I disposed of the slaves jointly and during that episode we rediscovered something of our old comradeship. My brother-in-law may be trusted. He feels Huon hampers his researches too much."

  All this time their voices had not risen above a murmur so that even the slavegirls by the door could not hear them.

  Meliadus bowed to Flana, snapped his fingers at the girls so that they ran to prepare his litter and carry him back through the corridors to his own home, and left.

  Flana continued to stare out over the water, hardly thinking of Meliadus's scheme, but dreaming instead of the handsome D'Averc and of days in the future when they might meet again and D'Averc would take her away from Londra and all its intrigues—take her perhaps to his own rural estates in France which she, if she were Queen, would be able to give back to him.

  Perhaps there would be an advantage to her becoming Queen Empress, then? That way she could choose her husband and that husband would be, of course, D'Averc. She could pardon him for his crimes against Granbretan, perhaps even pardon his companions-Hawkmoon and the rest.

  But no, Meliadus might agree to D'Avrec's reprieve-he would not agree to sparing all the rest.

  Perhaps her scheme was foolish. She sighed. She did not altogether care. There was even doubt that D'Averc was still alive. In the meantime she saw no reason for not taking at least a passive part in Meliadus's treason, although even she had some inkling of the awful consequences of failure, of the magnitude of Meliadus's scheme. He must be desperate indeed to consider over-throwing his hereditary ruler. In all the two thousand years of his rule, no Granbretanian had previously dared think of deposing Huon. Flana did not even know if it were possible.

  She shuddered. If she were made Queen, she would not choose immortality—particularly if it meant becoming a wizened thing like Huon.

  Chapter Two - Conversation Beside The Mentality Machine

  KALAN OF VITALL fingered his serpent mask with pale, old hands on which the veins stood out, resembling, themselves, so many curling blue snakes. Ahead was the main laboratory—a great, low-ceilinged hall in which many experiments were being performed by men dressed in the uniforms and masks of the Order of the Serpent, of which Baron Kalan was Grand Constable.

  Strange machines gave off stranger sounds and stenches and miniature coloured lightnings flashed and cracked around them so that the entire area resembled some hell-ish workshop presided over by devils. Here and there human beings of both sexes and varying ages had been strapped out or fitted into machines as the scientists tested their experiments on the human mind and body.

  Most had been silenced in some way, but a few screamed or moaned or cried out in peculiar insane voices, often to the annoyance of the distracted scientists who would stuff rags into the mouths or sever vocal chords or find some other swift method of achieving a measure of quiet while they worked.

  Kalan put one hand on Meliadus's shoulder and pointed to a machine standing unattended nearby.

  "You'll remember the mentality machine? The one we used to test Hawkmoon's mind?"

  "Aye," Meliadus grumbled. "That's the one led you to believe we could trust Hawkmoon."

  "We reckoned without factors we could not anticipate," Kalan said by way of defence. "Well, that is not why I mentioned my little invention. I was asked to use it this morning."

  "By whom?"

  "By the King Emperor himself. He summoned me to the Throne Room and told me he wished to test a member of the Court."

  "Who?"

  "Who d'you think, my lord?"

  "Myself!" Meliadus spoke with outrage.

  "Exactly. I think he suspects your loyalty in some way, Lord Baron ..."

  "How much, do you think?"

  "Not much. All that appears to be in Huon's mind is that you may be concentrating too much on your personal schemes and not enough on the interests of his own plans. I think he would merely like to know how strong your loyalty is and if you have given up your personal plans..."

  "Do you intend to obey his orders, Kalan?"

  Kalan shrugged. "Do you suggest I ignore them?"

  "No—but what shall we do?"

  "I will have to put you in the mentality machine, of course, but I think I can obtain the results that would be most in our interest." Kalan chuckled, a hollow whisper of sound from within his mask. "Shall we begin, Meliadus?"

  Meliadus moved reluctantly forward, looking nervously at the gleaming machine of red and blue metal, with its mysterious projections, its heavy, jointed arms and attachments of unknown application. Its main feature, however, was the huge bell hanging above the rest of the machine, depending from an intricate scaffold.

  Kalan threw a switch and gestured apologetically.

  "We once kept this machine in a hall of its own, but space has become so limited of late. That is one of my chief complaints. We are asked for so much and given so little room in which to achieve it." From the machine came a sound like the breathing of some gigantic beast.

  Meliadus took a step backward. Kalan chuckled again and signalled for serpent-masked servitors to come to help him operate the device.

  "If you will kindly stand beneath the bell, Meliadus, we will lower it at once," Kalan suggested.

  Slowly, suspiciously, Meliadus took his place. The bell began to descend until it had covered him, its fleshy sides writhing until they had moulded themselves completely to his body. Then Meliadus felt as if hot wires had been inserted into his skull and that they were probing into his brain. He tried to yell, but was muffled.

  Hallucinations began—visions and memories of his past life—mainly of battles and bloodshed, though the hated face of Dorian Hawkmoon, twisted into a million fearful shapes, swam often before his eyes, as did the sweetly beautiful face of the woman he desired above everything, Yisselda of Brass. Gradually, through an eternity, his whole life began to be built up until he had recalled all that had ever happened to him, everything he had ever thought or dreamed of, not sequentially, but in order of importance. Riding over everything was his desire for Yisselda, his hatred of Hawkmoon and his schemes for ousting Huon from power.

  Then the bell was rising and Meliadus looked once again upon the mask of Kalan. Meliadus felt mentally purged and in high spirits.

  "Well, Kalan, what did you discover?"

  "Nothing, at this stage, that I did not already know. The full results will take an hour or two to process." He giggled. "The emperor would be much amused to see them."

  "Aye. He will not see them, I hope."

  "He will see something, Meliadus, that will show that your hatred for Hawkmoon is
diminishing and that your love for the emperor is abiding and deep. Do not they tell us that love and hate are close together. Therefore your hatred of Huon will become love, with a little doc-toring on my part."

  "Good. Now let us discuss the rest of our project. First we must find a way of bringing Castle Brass back to this dimension—or else of finding a way through ourselves—secondly we must discover a means of reactivating the Black Jewel in Hawkmoon's skull and thus getting him into our power again. Lastly we must devise weapons and so forth to enable us to overcome Huon's forces."

  Kalan nodded. "Of course. There are already the new engines I invented for the ships..."

  "The ships that Trott left with?"

  "Aye. The engines drive vessels faster and farther than anything ever before invented. Trott's ships are the only ones so far equipped with them. Trott should be reporting to us soon."

  "Where did he go?"

  "I am not sure. Only he and King Huon knew—but it must have been a good distance away—several thousand miles at the least. Perhaps to Asiacommunista."

  "That seems likely," Meliadus agreed. "Still, let us forget Trott and discuss the details of our plan. Taragorm, also, is working on a device which might help us reach Castle Brass."

  "Perhaps it would be best for Taragorm to concentrate on that line of research, since it is his speciality, while I try to find a means of activating the Black Jewel," Kalan suggested.

  "Perhaps," murmured Meliadus. "First, I think, I will consult my brother-in-law. I'll leave you now and return shortly."

  With that, Meliadus summoned his slaves who brought his litter. He climbed into it, waved farewell to Kalan, and directed the girls to take him to the Palace of Time.

  Chapter Three - Taragorm of The Palace of Time

  IN TARAGORM'S STRANGE palace, shaped like a gigantic clock, the air was full of clanks and whirrs and the whistling of pendula and balance wheels and Taragorm, in his huge clock mask which told the time as accurately as the other clocks in the palace, took Meliadus's arm and guided him through the Hall of the Pendulum where, a short distance above Meliadus's head, the huge brass bob, made to resemble an ornate, blazing sun, flung its fifty ton weight back and forth across the hall.

  "Well, brother," Meliadus shouted above the noise, "you sent me a message that you said I would be pleased to hear, but the message only told me to come to see you."

  "Aye. I felt it best to tell you in private. Come." Taragorm led Meliadus through a short passage and into a small room in which stood only one ancient clock. Taragorm closed the door and there was relative silence. He indicated the clock. "It is probably the oldest clock in the world, brother—a 'grandfather' it was called and it was made by Thomas Tompion."

  "I have not heard the name."

  "A master craftsman—the greatest of his age. He lived well before the onset of the Tragic Millennium."

  "Indeed? And has this something to do with your message?"

  "Of course not." Taragorm clapped his hands and a side door opened. A lean, ragged figure stepped through, his face covered by a cracked, plain leather mask. He bowed extravagantly to Meliadus.

  "Who is this?"

  "It is Elvereza Tozer, brother. You remember the name?"

  "Of course! The man who stole Mygan's ring and then vanished!"

  "Exactly. Tell my brother Baron Meliadus where you have been, Master Tozer..."

  Again Tozer bowed and then sat himself down on the edge of the table, spreading his arms wide. "Why, I've been to Castle Brass, my lord!"

  Suddenly Meliadus sprang across the room to grab the startled Tozer by the slack of his shirt. "You've been where!" he growled.

  "C-castle B-Brass, your honour..."

  Meliadus shook Tozer, lifting him clear of the ground. "How?"

  "I reached the place by accident—I was captured by Hawkmoon of Koln—I was held prisoner—my ring taken from me—without ring could not remain—escaped—arrived b-back here..." Tozer gasped in fright.

  "He brought some information with him that's more interesting," Taragorm said. "Tell him, Tozer."

  "The machine which protects them—which keeps them in that other dimension—it's in the dungeons of the castle—kept carefully protected. A crystal thing they got from a place called Soryandum. It took them there and it ensures their safety."

  Taragorm laughed. "It is true, Meliadus. I've tested him a dozen times. I've heard of this crystal machine but did not suspect it existed still. And with the rest of the information Tozer has given me, I think I can achieve some results."

  "You can get us through to Castle Brass?"

  "Oh, much more convenient than that, brother—within a short time I am fairly certain that I will bring Castle Brass back to us."

  Meliadus looked silently at Taragorm for a moment and then began to laugh. His laughter was so great then that it threatened to drown the noise of the clocks.

  "At last! At last! Thank you, brother! Thank you, Master Tozer! Destiny is patently upon my side!"

  Chapter Four - A Mission For Meliadus

  IT WAS ON the following day, however, that Meliadus was summoned to King Huon's Throne Room.

  As he made his way to the palace, Meliadus scowled in concentration. Had Kalan betrayed him? Had the scientist told King Huon the true results of the mentality machine's test? Or had King Huon guessed for himself? After all, the monarch was immortal. He had lived for two thousand years and had doubtless learned much.

  Were Kalan's faked records too clumsy to deceive Huon?

  Meliadus felt panic rise within him. Was this the end of everything? When he arrived in the Throne Room would Huon order the Mantis Guard to destroy him?

  The great gates swung open. The mantis warriors confronted him. At the far end was the Throne Globe, black and mysterious.

  Meliadus began to walk towards the Throne Globe.

  Eventually he reached it and bowed before it, but for a long while it remained solid, mysterious black. Was Huon playing with him?

  At length it began to swirl dark blue, then green, then pink and then white, revealing the foetus shape with its sharp, malevolent eyes staring down at Meliadus.

  "Baron..."

  "Noblest of Rulers."

  "We are pleased with you."

  Meliadus looked up in astonishment. "Great Emperor?"

  "We are pleased with you and we wish to honour you."

  "Noble Prince?"

  "You know of course that Shenegar Trott left on a special expedition."

  "I do, Mighty Monarch."

  "And you know where he went."

  "I do not, Light of the Universe."

  "He went to Amarehk, there to discover what he could about the continent—to see if we should meet resistance if we landed a force there."

  "It would seem, then, that he did meet resistance, Immortal Ruler...?"

  "Aye. He should have reported back a week or more ago. We are concerned."

  "You think he is dead, Noble Emperor?"

  "We should like to discover that—and also discover who slew him if that is the case. Baron Meliadus. We wish to entrust you with the second expedition."

  At first Meliadus was filled with fury. Meliadus play second to that fat buffoon Trott! Meliadus waste time questing about on the coasts of a continent in the hope of discovering Trott's droppings! He would have none of it! He would attack the Throne Globe now, if that senile fool above him would not be sure to have him cut down in an instant. He swallowed his temper and a new scheme began to form in his skull.

  "I am honoured, King of All!" he said with mock humility. "Do I choose my crews?"

  "If you wish."

  "Then I'll take men who I can be sure of. Members of the Order of the Wolf and the Order of the Vulture."

  "But these are not sailors. They are not even marines!"

  "The Vultures have sailors among them, Emperor of the World, and those are the men I will select."

  "As you say, Baron Meliadus."

  Meliadus was asto
nished to discover Trott had sailed to Amarehk. It made him even more resentful—Huon had entrusted the Court of Sussex with an assignment rightfully his. Another score to settle, he told himself.

  He was glad now that he had bided his time and accepted—or appeared to have accepted—the king's orders.

  His opportunity, in fact, seemed to have been handed to him by the creature he now considered to be his arch enemy after Hawkmoon.

  Meliadus pretended to think for a moment. "If you believe the Vultures to be untrustworthy, Monarch of Space and Time, then may I suggest I take with me their chief...?"

  "Their chief? Asrovak Mikosevaar is dead—killed by Hawkmoon!"

  "But his widow inherited the Constabulary ..."

  "Flana! A woman!"

  "Aye, Great Emperor. She will control them."

  "I would not have thought that the Countess of Kanbery could control a rabbit, she is so vague, but if that is your wish, my lord, then so be it."

  For a further hour they discussed the details of the plan and the king gave Meliadus all possible information relating to Trott's first expedition.

  Then Meliadus left, his hidden eyes full of triumph.

  Chapter Five - The Fleet at Deau-vere

  OVERLOOKED BY THE turreted city of Deau-Vere, flanked on three sides by quays of scarlet stone, the small fleet lay at anchor in a livid sea. On the wide roofs of the buildings stood thousands of ornithopters, fanci-fully fashioned to resemble birds and mythical beasts, their wings folded; and in the streets below their pilots swaggered in masks of Crow and Owl, mingling with the sailors in their Fish and Sea Serpent helms and the infantry and cavalry—Pig, Skull, Hound, Goat and Bull—who were preparing to cross the Channel not by ship but by the famed Silver Bridge Across The Sea which could be seen on the other side of the city, its great curve disappearing into the distance, all delicate and shining and loaded constantly with traffic coming to and from the Continent.