Elric to Rescue Tanelorn - Michael Moorcock [131]
He called out and his voice was turned into a dismal wail which mocked him.
He tried to move, but he could not tell whether he remained in the same spot or walked a dozen miles.
Now there was someone standing a few yards away, seemingly obscured by a screen of multicoloured transparent gems. He stepped forward and made to dash away the screen, but it vanished and he stopped suddenly.
He looked on a face of infinite sorrow.
And the face was his own face, save that the man’s colouring was normal and his hair was black.
“What are you?” Elric said thickly.
“I have had many names. One is Erekosë. I have been many men. Perhaps I am all men.”
“But you are like me!”
“I am you.”
“No!”
The phantom’s eyes held tears as it stared in pity at Elric.
“Do not weep for me!” Elric roared. “I need no sympathy from you!”
“Perhaps I weep for myself, for I know our fate.”
“And what is that?”
“You would not understand.”
“Tell me.”
“Ask your gods.”
Elric raised his sword. Fiercely he said, “No—I’ll have my answer from you!”
And the phantom faded away.
Elric shivered. Now the corridor was populated by a thousand such phantoms. Each murmured a different name. Each wore different clothes. But each had his face, if not his colouring.
“Begone!” he screamed. “Oh, gods, what is this place?”
And at his command they disappeared.
“Elric?”
The albino whirled, sword ready. But it was Duke Avan Astran of Old Hrolmar. He touched his own face with trembling fingers, but said levelly, “I must tell you that I believe I am losing my sanity, Prince Elric…”
“What have you seen?”
“Many things. I cannot describe them.”
“Where are Moonglum and the others?”
“Doubtless each went his separate way, as we did.”
Elric raised Stormbringer and brought the blade crashing against a crystal wall. The Black Sword moaned, but the wall merely changed its position.
But through the gap now Elric saw ordinary daylight. “Come, Duke Avan—there is escape!”
Avan, dazed, followed him and they stepped out of the crystal and found themselves in the central square of R’lin K’ren A’a.
But there were noises. Carts and chariots moved about the square. Stalls were erected on one side. People moved peacefully about. And the Jade Man did not dominate the sky above the city. Here, there was no Jade Man at all.
Elric looked at the faces. They were the eldritch features of the folk of Melniboné. Yet these had a different cast to them which he could not at first define. Then he recognized what they had. It was tranquility. He reached out his hand to touch one of the people.
“Tell me, friend, what year…?”
But the man did not hear him. He walked by.
Elric tried to stop several of the passers-by, but not one could see or hear him.
“How did they lose this peace?” Duke Avan asked wonderingly. “How did they become like you, Prince Elric?”
Elric almost snarled as he turned sharply to face the Vilmirian. “Be silent!”
Duke Avan shrugged. “Perhaps this is merely an illusion.”
“Perhaps,” Elric said sadly. “But I am sure this is how they lived—until the coming of the High Ones.”
“You blame the gods, then?”
“I blame the knowledge that the gods brought.”
Duke Avan nodded gravely. “I understand.”
He turned back towards the great crystal and then stood listening. “Do you hear that voice, Prince Elric? What is it saying?”
Elric heard the voice. It seemed to be coming from the crystal. It was speaking the old tongue of Melniboné, but with a strange accent. “This way,” it said. “This way.”
Elric paused. “I have no liking to return there.”
Avan said, “What choice have we?”
They stepped together through the entrance.
Again they were in the maze that could be one corridor or many and the voice was clearer. “Take two paces to your right,” it instructed.
Avan glanced at Elric. “What was that?”
Elric told him.
“Shall we obey?” Avan asked.
“Aye.” There was resignation in the albino’s voice.
They took two paces to their right.
“Now four to your left,” said the voice.
They took four paces to their left.
“Now one forward.