Vanishing Tower - Michael Moorcock [6]
Elric's skill in sorcery lay chiefly in his command over the various elementals of air, fire, earth, water and ether, and also over the entities who had affinities with the flora and fauna of the Earth.
He had decided that his only hope lay in summoning the aid of Fileet, Lady of the Birds, who dwelt in a realm lying beyond the planes of Earth, but the invocation eluded him.
Even if he could remember it, the mind had to be adjusted in a certain way, the correct rhythms of the incantation remembered, the exact words and inflections recalled, before he could begin to summon Fileet's aid. For she, more than another elemental, was as difficult to invoke as the fickle Arioch.
Through the drifting snow he heard Moonglum call out something indistinct.
"What was that, Moonglum?" he called back.
"I only—sought to learn—if you still—lived, friend Elric."
"Aye—barely. ..."
His face was chill and ice had formed on his helmet and breastplate. His whole body ached both from the crushing coils of the chimera and from the biting cold of the upper air.
On and on through the northern night they flew while Elric forced himself to relax, to descend into a trance and to dredge from his mind the ancient knowledge of his forefathers.
At dawn the clouds had cleared and the sun's red rays spread over the snow like blood over damask. Everywhere stretched the steppe—a vast field of snow from horizon to horizon, while above it the sky was nothing but a blue sheet of ice in which sat the red pool of the sun.
And, tireless as ever, the chimerae flew on.
Elric brought himself slowly from his trance and prayed to his untrustworthy gods that he remembered the spell aright.
His lips were all but frozen together. He licked them and it was as if he licked snow. He opened them and bitter air coursed into his mouth. He coughed then, turning his head upwards, his crimson eyes glazing.
He forced his lips to frame strange syllables, to utter the old vowel-heavy words of the High Speech of Old Melniboné, a speech hardly suited to a human tongue at all.
"Fileet," he murmured. Then he began to chant the incantation. And as he chanted the sword grew warmer in his hand and supplied him with more energy so that the eldritch chant echoed through the icy sky.
Feathers fine our fates entwined
Bird and man and thine and mine,
Formed a pact that Gods divine
Hallowed on an ancient shrine,
When kind swore service unto kind.
Fileet, fair feathered queen of flight
Remember now that fateful night
And help your brother in his plight.
There was more to the summoning than the words of the invocation. There were the abstract thoughts in the head, the visual images which had to be retained in the mind the whole time, the emotions felt, the memories made sharp and true. Without everything being exactly right, the invocation would prove useless.
Centuries before, the Sorcerer Kings of Melniboné had struck this bargain with Fileet, Lady of the Birds: That any bird that settled in Imrryr's walls should be protected, that no bird would be shot by any of the Melnibonéan blood. This bargain had been kept and dreaming Imrryr had become a haven for all species of bird and at one time they had cloaked her towers in plumage.
Now Elric chanted his verses, recalling that bargain and begging Fileet to remember her part of it.
Brothers and sisters of the sky
Hear my voice where'er ye fly
And bring me aid from kingdoms high...
Not for the first time had he called upon the elementals and those akin to them. But lately he had summoned Haaashaastaak, Lord of the Lizards, in his fight against Theleb K'aarna and still earlier he had made use of the services of the wind elementals—the sylphs, the sharnahs and the h'Haarshanns—and the earth elementals.
Yet, Fileet was fickle.
And now that Imrryr was no more than quaking ruins, she could even choose to forget that ancient pact.
"Fileet. ..."
He was weak from the invoking. He would not have the strength to battle Theleb K'aarna even if he found the opportunity.
"Fileet. ..."
And then the air was stirring