Elric_ The Sleeping Sorceress - Michael Moorcock [46]
“Come, rest in Tanelorn—peaceful Tanelorn, where even the greatest Lords of the Higher Worlds cannot come without permission.”
Elric looked down at the ring on his finger. “Yet I have sworn Theleb K’aarna shall perish . . .”
“There will be time yet to fulfill your oath.”
Elric ran his hand through his milk-white hair and it seemed to his friends that there were tears in his crimson eyes.
“Aye,” he said. “Aye. Time yet . . .”
And they rode away from Nadsokor, leaving the beggars to brood in the stink and the foulness and regret that they had aught to do with sorcery or with Elric of Melniboné.
They rode for Eternal Tanelorn. Tanelorn, which had welcomed and held all troubled wanderers who came upon it. All save one.
Doom-haunted, full of guilt, of sorrow, of despair, Elric of Melniboné prayed that this time Tanelorn might hold even him . . .
BOOK THREE
THREE HEROES WITH A SINGLE AIM
. . . Elric, of all the manifestations of the Champion Eternal, was to find Tanelorn without effort. And of all those manifestations he was the only one to choose to leave that city of myriad incarnations . .
—The Chronicle of the Black Sword
CHAPTER ONE
Tanelorn Eternal
TANELORN HAD TAKEN many forms in her endless existence, but all those forms, save one, had been beautiful.
She was beautiful now, with the soft sunlight on her pastel towers and her curved turrets and domes. And banners flew from her spires, but they were not battle-banners, for the warriors who had found Tanelorn and had stayed there were weary of war.
She had been here always. None knew when Tanelorn had been built, but some knew that she had existed before time and would exist after the end of time and that was why she was known as Eternal Tanelorn.
She had played a significant role in the struggles of many heroes and many gods and because she existed beyond time she was hated by the Lords of Chaos who had more than once sought to destroy her. To the south of her lay the rolling plains of Ilmiora, a land where justice was known to prevail, and to the north of her lay the desolation which was the Sighing Desert, endless wasteland over which hissed a constant wind. If Ilmiora represented Law, then the Sighing Desert certainly mirrored something of the barrenness of Ultimate Chaos. Those who dwelled in Tanelorn had loyalty neither to Law nor to Chaos and they had chosen to have no part in the Cosmic Struggle which was waged continuously by the Lords of the Higher Worlds. There were no leaders and there were no followers in Tanelorn and her citizens lived in harmony with each other, even though many had been warriors of great reputation before they chose to stay there. But one of the most admired citizens of Tanelorn, one who was often consulted by the others, was Rackhir of the ascetic features who had once been a fierce Warrior Priest in the Eastlands where he had gained the name of the Red Archer because his skill with a bow was great and he dressed all in scarlet. His skill and his dress remained the same, but his urge to fight had left him since he had come to live in Tanelorn.
Close to the low west wall of the city lay a house of two storeys surrounded by a lawn in which grew all manner of wild flowers. The house was of pink and yellow marble and, unlike most of the other dwellings in Tanelorn, it had a tall, pointed roof. This was Rackhir’s house and Rackhir sat outside it now, sprawled on a bench of plain wood while he watched his guest pace the lawn. The guest was his old friend the tormented albino prince of Melniboné.
Elric wore a simple white shirt and britches of heavy black silk. He had a band of the same black silk tied around his head to keep back the mane of milk-white hair which grew to his shoulders. His crimson eyes were downcast as he paced and he did not look at Rackhir at all.
Rackhir was unwilling to intrude upon his friend’s reverie and yet he hated to see Elric as he was now. He had hoped that Tanelorn would comfort the albino, drive away