Elric to Rescue Tanelorn - Michael Moorcock [14]
“Take the Eldren wench away, Katorn,” said the king, his voice rising.
“My lord king—this is Ermizhad!”
“What?” The king leaned forward and stared at the girl. “Ermizhad, the Wanton of the Ghost Worlds. She’s lured many a mortal to his death so I’ve heard. She shall die by torture for her lustful crimes. The stake shall have her.”
“No, King Rigenos—forget you not that she’s Prince Arjavh’s sister?”
“Of course. You did right Katorn. Keep her prisoner, keep her safe.” He looked at the swaying captain, noting his drunkenness. “No—enjoy yourself, Katorn. She shall be put in Erekosë’s charge.”
“I accept the charge,” I said, taking my chance. I had pity for the girl, whatever terrible crimes she had committed.
“Keep her from harm, Erekosë,” said the king cynically, eyeing the girl. “Keep her from harm—she’ll be a useful piece in our game with Arjavh.”
“Take her to my apartments in the east wing,” I told the guards, “and make sure she is kept there, unmolested.” They took her away.
I understood her usefulness as a hostage, but had not understood the king’s reference to the Ghost Worlds. I remembered, then, that once before he had mentioned them.
“The Ghost Worlds?” he said when I questioned him. “Know you not of them, Erekosë? Why humankind fear Arjavh’s allies so much that they will rarely mention them, in terror of conjuring them up by their words.”
“But what are they?”
Rigenos looked around him nervously. “I’ll tell you,” he said, “but I’m uncomfortable about doing so in this cursed place. The Eldren know better than we what the Ghost Worlds are—we had thought, at first, that you yourself were a prisoner there. They lie beyond Time, beyond Space, linked to this Earth by tenuous bonds.” His voice dropped, but he whispered on and I shuddered at what he told me.
“There, on the torn Ghost Worlds, dwell the many-coiled serpents which are the terror and the scourge of the eight dimensions. Here, also, live ghosts and men, those who are manlike and those who are unlike men, those who know their fate which is to live without time, and those who are unaware of their doom. And there, also, do kinfolk to the Eldren dwell—the halflings.”
“But what are these worlds?” I asked impatiently.
“They are the worlds to which human sorcerers go in search of alien wisdom, and from which they draw helpers of horrible powers and disgusting deeds. It is said that within those worlds an initiate may meet his long-slain comrades who may sometimes help him, his dead loves and kin, and particularly his enemies—those whom he has caused to die. Malevolent enemies with great powers—or wretches who are half-souled and incomplete.”
I was moved to horror by his whispered words, but still curious to know more. “What are they? Where are they?”
“We have no answer to either question. They are worlds full of shadow and gloomy shores upon which drab seas beat. The populace can sometimes be summoned by powerful sorcery to visit this Earth, to haunt, to help or to terrorize. We think that the Eldren came, originally, from these half-worlds if they were not, as our legends say, spawned from the womb of a wicked queen who gave her hand to Azmobaana in return for immortality—the immortality which her offspring inherited. But the Eldren are material enough, for all their lack of souls, whereas the Ghost Armies are rarely of solid flesh.”
“And why is that girl known as the Wanton of the Ghost Worlds?” I asked.
“It is said that she mates with ghouls,” answered the king, “and in return has special powers over the halflings who are friends with the ghouls. The halflings love her, as far as it is possible for such degenerate creatures to love.”
I could not believe the first part. The girl seemed young, innocent. I said as much.
“How do you tell the age of an immortal?” Rigenos replied. I could not, of course, answer. But I thought much of Ermizhad as we went on to talk of the immediate considerations of war against the Eldren.
We had little clear idea where the rest of the Eldren forces were marshaled. There were