FOUR

Next afternoon, three riders set off for the town of Thokora. Elric and Yishana rode close together; but the third rider, Theleb K’aarna, kept a frowning distance. If Elric was at all embarrassed by this display on the part of the man he had ousted in Yishana’s affections, he did not show it.

Elric, finding Yishana more than attractive in spite of himself, had agreed at least to inspect the citadel and suggest what it might be and how it might be fought. He had exchanged a few words with Moonglum before setting off.

They rode across the beautiful grasslands of Jharkor, golden beneath a hot sun. It was two days’ ride to Thokora, and Elric intended to enjoy it. Feeling less than miserable, he galloped along with Yishana, laughing with her in her enjoyment.

Yet, buried deeper than it would normally have been, there was a deep foreboding in his heart as they neared the mysterious citadel, and he noted that Theleb K’aarna occasionally looked satisfied when he should have looked disgruntled.

Sometimes Elric would shout to the sorcerer. ‘Ho, old spell-maker, do you feel no joyful release from the cares of the court out here amidst the beauties of nature? Your face is long, Theleb K’aarna—breathe in the untainted air and laugh with us!’ Then Theleb K’aarna would scowl and mutter, and Yishana would laugh at him and glance brightly at Elric.

So they came to Thokora and found it a smouldering pit that stank like a midden of hell.

Elric sniffed. ‘This is Chaos work. You were right enough there, Theleb K’aarna. Whatever fire destroyed such a large town, it was not natural fire.

Whoever is responsible for this is evidently increasing his power. As you know, sorcerer, the Lords of Law and Chaos are usually in perfect balance, neither tampering directly with our Earth. Evidently the balance has tipped a little way to one side, as it sometimes does, favouring the Lords of Disorder—allowing them access to our realm. Normally it is possible for an earthly sorcerer to summon aid from Chaos or Law for a short time, but it is rare for either side to establish itself so firmly as our friend in the citadel evidently has. What is more disturbing—for you of the Young Kingdoms, at least—is that, _once such power is gained, it is possible to increase it, and the Lords of Chaos could in time conquer the Realm of Earth by gradual increase of their strength here.’ ‘A terrible possibility,’ muttered the sorcerer, genuinely afraid. Even though he could sometimes summon help from Chaos, it was in no human being’s interest to have Chaos ruling over him.

Elric climbed back into his saddle. ‘We’d best make speed to the valley,’ he said.

‘Are you sure it is wise, after witnessing this?’ Theleb K’aarna was nervous.

Elric laughed. ‘What? And you a sorcerer from Pan Tang—that isle that claims to know as much of sorcery as my ancestors, the Bright Emperors! No, no—besides, I’m not in a cautious mood today!’ ‘Nor am I,’ cried Yishana, clapping her steed’s sides. ‘Come, gentlemen—to the Citadel of Chaos!’ By late afternoon, they had topped the range of hills surrounding the valley and looked down at the mysterious citadel.

Yishana had described it well-but not perfectly.

Elric’s eyes ached as he looked at it, for it seemed to extend beyond the Realm of Earth into a different plane, perhaps several.

It shimmered and glittered and all Earthly colours were there, as well as many which Elric recognised as belonging to other planes. Even the basic outline of the citadel was uncertain. In contrast, the surrounding valley was a sea of dark ash, which sometimes seemed to eddy, to undulate and send up spurting geysers of dust, as if the basic elements of nature had been disturbed, and warped by the presence of the supernatural citadel.

‘Well?’ Theleb K’aarna tried to calm his nervous horse as it backed away from the citadel. ‘Have you seen the like in the world before?’ Elric shook his head. ‘Not in this world, certainly: but I’ve seen it before. During my final initiation into the arts of Melnibone, my father took me with him in astral form to the Realm of Chaos, there to receive the audience of my patron the Lord Arioch of the Seven Darks...’ Theleb K’aarna shuddered. ‘You have been to Chaos? It is Arioch’s citadel, then?’ Elric laughed in disdain. ‘That! No, it is a hovel compared to the palaces of the Lords of Chaos.’ -Impatiently, Yishana said; ‘Then who dwells there?’ ‘As I remember, the one who dwelt in the citadel when I passed through the Chaos Realm in my youth—he was no Lord of Chaos, but a kind of servant to the Lords. Yet,’ he frowned, ‘not exactly a servant .... ‘ ‘Ach! You speak in riddles. Theleb K’aarna turned his horse to ride down the hills, away from the citadel. ‘I know you Melniboneans! Starving, you’d rather have a paradox than food!’ Elric and Yishana followed him some distance,

then Elric stopped. Elric pointed behind him.

‘The one who dwells yonder is a paradoxical sort of fellow. He’s a kind of Jester to the Court of Chaos. The Lords of Chaos respect him—perhaps fear him slightly—even though he entertains them.

He delights them with cosmic riddles; with farcical satires purporting to explain the nature of the Cosmic Hand that holds both Chaos and Law in balance, he juggles enigmas like baubles, laughs at what Chaos holds dear, takes seriously that which they mock at . . .’ He paused and shrugged. ‘So I have heard, at least.’ ‘Why should he be here?’ ‘Why should he be anywhere? I could guess at the motives of Chaos or Law and probably be right. But not even the Lords of the Higher Worlds can understand the motives of Balo the Jester. It is said that he is the only one allowed to move between the Realms of Chaos and Law at will, though I have never heard of him coming to the Realm of Earth before. Neither, for that matter, have I ever heard him credited with such acts of destruction as that which we’ve witnessed. It is a puzzle to me—one which would no doubt please him if he knew.’ ‘There would be one way of discovering the purpose of his visit,’ Theleb K’aarna said with a faint smile. ‘If someone entered the citadel...’ ‘Come now, sorcerer,’ Elric mocked. ‘I’ve little love for life, to be sure, but there are some things of value to me—my soul, for one!’ Theleb K’aarna began to ride on down the hill, but. Elric remained thoughtfully where he was, Yishana beside him.

‘You seem more troubled by this than you should be, Elric,’ she said.

‘It is disturbing. There is a hint here that, if we investigate the citadel further, we should become embroiled in some dispute between Balo and his masters—perhaps even the Lords of Law, too. To become so involved could easily mean our destruction, since the forces at work are more dangerous and powerful than anything we are familiar with on Earth.’ ‘But we cannot simply watch this Balo laying our cities waste, carrying off our fairest, threatening to rule Jharkor himself within a short time!’ Elric sighed, but did not reply.

‘Have you no sorcery, Elric, to send Balo back to Chaos where he belongs, to seal the breach he has made in our Realm?’ ‘Even Melniboneans cannot match the power of the Lords of the Higher Worlds—and my forefathers knew much more of sorcery than do I. My best allies serve neither Chain nor Law, they are elementals: lords of fire, earth, air, and water, entities with affinities with beasts and plants. Good allies in an earthly battle—but of no great use when matched against one such as Balo. I must think. ... At least, if I opposed Balo it would not necessarily incur the wrath of my patron Lords. Something, I suppose .... ‘ The hills rolled green and lush to the grasslands at their feet, the sun beat down from a clear sky on the infinity of grass stretching to the horizon. Above them a large predatory bird wheeled; and Theleb K’aarna was a tiny figure, turning in the saddle to call to them in a thin voice, but his words could not be heard.

Yishana seemed dispirited. Her shoulders slightly slumped, and she did not look at Elric as she began to guide her horse slowly down towards the sorcerer of Pan Tang. Elric followed, conscious of his own indecision, yet half-careless of it. What did it matter to him if... ?

The music began, faintly at first, but beginning to swell with an attractive, poignant sweetness, evoking nostalgic memories, offering peace and giving life a sharp meaning, all at once. If the music came from instruments, then they were not earthly. It produced in him a yearning to turn about and discover its source, but he resisted it. Yishana, on the other hand, was evidently not finding the music so easily resisted.

She had wheeled completely round, her face radiant, her lips trembling and tears shining in her eyes.

Elric, in his wanderings in unearthly realms, had heard music like it before—it echoed many of the bizarre symphonies of old Melnibone—and it did not draw him as it drew Yishana. He recognised swiftly that she was in danger, and as she came past him, spurring her horse, he reached out to grab her bridle.

Her whip slashed at his hand and, cursing with unexpected pain, he dropped the bridle. She went past him, galloping up to the crest of the hill and vanishing over it in an instant.

‘Yishana!’ He shouted at her desperately, but his voice would not carry over the pulsing music. He looked back, hoping that Theleb K’aarna would lend help, but the sorcerer was riding rapidly away.

Evidently, on hearing the music, he had come to a swift decision.

Elric raced after Yishana, screaming for her to turn back. His own horse reached the top of the hill and he saw her bent over her steed’s neck as she goaded it towards the shining citadel.

“Yishana! You go to your doom!”

Now she had reached the outer limits of the citadel, and her horse’s feet seemed to strike off shimmering waves of colour as they touched the Chaos-disturbed ground surrounding the place. Although he knew it was too late to stop her, Elric continued to speed after her, hoping to reach her before she entered the citadel itself.

But, even as he entered the rainbow swirl, he saw what appeared to be a dozen Yishanas going through a dozen gateways into the citadel. Oddly refracted light created the illusion and made it impossible m tell which was the real Yishana.

With Yishana’s disappearance the music stopped and Elric thought he heard a faint whisper of laughter following it. His horse was by this time becoming increasingly difficult to control, and he did not trust himself to it. He dismounted, his legs wreathed in radiant mist, and let the horse go. It galloped off, snorting its terror.

Elric’s left hand moved to the hilt of his runesword, but he hesitated to draw it. Once pulled from its scabbard, the blade would demand souls before it allowed itself to be resheathed. Yet it was his only weapon. He withdrew his hand, and the blade seemed to quiver angrily at his side.

‘Not yet, Stormbringer. There may be forces within who are stronger even than you!’ He-began to wade through the Faintly-resisting light swirls. He was halt-blinded by the scintillating colours around him, which sometimes shone dark blue, silver, and red; sometimes gold, light green, amber. He also felt the sickening lack of any sort of orientation-distance, depth, breadth were meaningless. He recognised what he had only experienced in an astral form—the odd, timeless, spaceless quality that marked a Realm of the Higher Worlds.

He drifted, pushing his body in the direction in which he Yishana had for now guessed gone, by he had lost sight of the gateway or any of its mirage images.

He realised that, unless he was doomed to drift here until he starved, he must draw Stormbringer; for the runeblade could resist the influence of Chaos.

This time, when he gripped the sword’s hilt, he felt a shock run up his arm and infuse his body with vitality. The sword came free from the scabbard.

From the huge blade, carved with strange old runes, a black radiance poured, meeting the shifting colours of Chaos and dispersing them.

Now Elric shrieked the age-old battle-ululation of his folk and pressed on into the citadel, slashing at the intangible images that swirled on all sides. The gateway was ahead, and Elric knew it now, for his sword had shown him which were the mirages. It was open as Elric reached the portal. He paused for a moment, his lips moving as he remembered an invocation that he might need later. Arioch, Lord of Chaos, patron god-demon of his ancestors, was a negligent power and whimful—he could not rely on Arioch to aid him here, unless...

In slow, graceful strides, a golden beast with eyes of ruby-fire was loping down the passage that led from the portal. Bright though the eyes were, they seemed blind, and its huge, doglike muzzle was closed. Yet its path could only lead it to Elric and, as it neared him, the mouth suddenly gaped showing coral fangs. In silence it came to a halt, the blind eyes never once settling on the albino, and then sprang!

Elric staggered back, raising the sword in defense.

He was flung to the ground by the beast’s weight and felt its body cover him. It was cold, cold, and it made no attempt to savage him—just lay on top of him and let the cold permeate his body.

Elric began to shiver as he pushed at the chilling body of the beast. Stormbringer moaned and tourmured in his hand, and then it pierced some part of the beast’s body, and a horrible cold strength began to fill the albino. Reinforced by the beast’s own lifeforce, he heaved upwards. The” beast continued to smother him, though now a thin, barely audible sound was coming from it. Elric guessed that Stormbringer’s small wound was hurting the creature.

Desperately, for he was shaking and aching with cold, he moved the sword and stabbed again. Again the thin sound from the beast; again cold energy flooded through him, and again he heaved. This time the beast was flung off and crawled back towards the portal. Elric sprang up, raised Stormbringer high, and brought the sword down on the golden creature’s skull. The skull shattered as ice might shatter.

Elric rang forward into the passage and, once within, the place became filled with roars and shrieks that echoed and were magnified. It Was as if the voice that the cold beast had lacked outside Was shouting its death-agonies here.

Now the floor rose until he was running up a spiral ramp. Looking down, he shuddered, for he looked into an infinite pit of subtle, dangerous colours that swam about in such a way that he could hardly take his eyes from them. He even felt his body begin to leave the ramp and go towards the pit, but he strengthened his grip on the sword and disciplined himself to climb on.

Upwards, as he looked, was the same as down’ wards. Only the ramp had any kind of constancy, and this began to take on the appearance of a thinlycut jewel, through which he could See the pit and in which it was reflected.

Greens and blues and yellows predominated, but there were also traces of dark red, black, and orange, and many other colours not in an ordinary human spectrum.

Elric knew he was in some province of the Higher Worlds and guessed that it would not be long before the ramp led him to new danger.

Danger did not seem to await him when at last he came to the end of the ramp and stepped on to a bridge of similar stuff, which led over the scintillating pit to an archway that shone with a steady blue light.

He crossed the bridge cautiously and as cautiously entered the arch. Everything was blue-tinged here, even himself: and he trod on, the blue becoming deeper and deeper as he progressed.

Then Stormbringer began to murmur and, either warned by the sword or by some sixth sense of his own, Elric wheeled to his right. Another archway had appeared there and from this there began to shine a light as deep red as the other was blue.

Where the two met was a purple of fantastic richness and Elric stared at this, experiencing a similar hypnotic pull as he had had when climbing the ramp.

Again his mind was stronger, and he forced himself to enter the red arch. At once another arch appeared to his left, sending a beam of green light to merge with the red, and another to his left brought yellow light, one ahead brought mauve until he seemed trapped within the criss-cross of beams. He slashed at them with Stormbringer, and the black radiance reduced .the beams for a moment to streamers of light, which reformed again. Elric continued to move forward.

Now, looming through the confusion of colour, a shape appeared and Elric thought it was that of a man.

Man it was in shape—but not in size it seemed.

Yet, when it drew closer, it was no giant—less than Elric’s height.-Still it gave the impression of vast proportions, rather as if it were a giant and Elric had grown to its size.

It blundered towards Elric and went through him.

It was not that the man was intangible—it was Elric who felt the ghost. The creature’s mass seemed of incredible density. The creature was turning, its huge hands reaching out, its face a mocking grimace. Elric struck at it with Stormbringer and was astonished as the runesword was halted, making no impression on the creature’s bulk.

Yet when it grasped Elric, its hands went through him. Elric backed away, grinning now in relief.

Then he saw with some terror that the light was gleaming through him. He had been right—he was the ghost!

The creature reached out for him again, grabbed him again, failed to hold him.

Elric, conscious that he was in no physical danger from the monster, yet also highly conscious that his sanity was about to be permanently impaired, turned and fled.

Quite suddenly he was in a hall, the walls of which were of the same unstable, shifting colours as the rest of the place. But sitting on a stool in the centre of the hall, holding in his hands some tiny creatures that seemed to be running about on his palm, was a small figure who looked up at Elric and grinned merrily.

‘Welcome, King of Melnibone. And how fares the last ruler of my favourite earthly race?’ The figure was dressed in shimmering motley. On his head was a tall, spiked crown—a travesty of and a comment upon the crowns of the mighty. His face was angular and his mouth wide.

‘Greetings, Lord Balo,’ Elric made a mock bow.

‘Strange hospitality you offer in your welcome.’ ‘Ahaha—it did” not amuse you, eh? Men are so much harder to please than gods—you would not think it, would you?’ ‘Men’s pleasures are rarely so elaborate. Where is Queen Yishana?’ ‘Allow me my pleasures also, mortal. Here she is, I think.’ Balo plucked at one of the tiny creatures on his palm. Elric stepped forward and saw that Yishana was indeed there, as were many of the lost soldiers. Balo looked up at him and winked. ‘They are so much easier to handle in this size.’ ‘I do not doubt it, though I wonder if it is not we who are larger rather than they who are smaller .... ‘ ‘You are astute, mortal. But can you guess how this came to be?’ ‘Your creature back there—your pits and colours and archways—somehow they warp—what?’ ‘Mass, King Elric. But you would not understand such concepts. Even the Lords of Melnibone, most godlike and intelligent of mortals, only learned how to manipulate the elements in ritual, invocation, and spell, but never understood what they manipulated-that is where the Lords of the Higher Worlds score, whatever their differences.’ ‘But I survived without need for spells. I survived by disciplining my mind!’ ‘That helped, for certain—but you forget your greatest asset-that disturbing blade there. You use it in your petty problems to aid you, and you never realise that it is like making use of a mighty war galley to catch a sprat. That sword represents power in any Realm, King Elric!’ ‘Aye, so it might. This does not interest me. Why are you here, Lord Balo?’ Balo chuckled, his laughter rich and musical.

‘Oho, I am in disgrace. I quarrelled with my masters, who took exception to a joke of mine about their insignificance and egotism, about their destiny and their pride. Bad taste to them, King, is any hint of their own oblivion. I made a joke in bad taste. I fled from the Higher Worlds to Earth, where, unless invoked, the Lords of Law or Chaos can rarely interfere. You will like my intention, Elric, as would any Melnibonean—I intend to establish my own Realm on Earth—the Realm of Paradox. A little from Law, a little from Chaos—a Realm of opposites, Of curiosities and jokes.’ ‘I’m thinking we already have such a world as you describe, Lord Balo, with no need for you to create it!’ ‘Earnest irony, King Elric, for an insouciant man of Melnibone.’ ‘Ah, that it may be. I am a boor on occasions such as these. Will you release Yishana and myself?’ ‘But you and I are giants—I have given you the status and appearance of a god. You and I could be partners in this enterprise Of miner’ ‘Unfortunately, Lord Balo, I do not possess your range of humour and am unfitted for such an exalted role. Besides,’ Elric grinned suddenly, ‘it is in my mind that the Lords of the Higher Worlds will not easily let drop the matter of your ambition, since it appears to conflict so strongly with theirs.’ Balo laughed but said nothing.

Elric also smiled, but it was an attempt to hide his racing thoughts. ‘What do you intend to do if I refuse?’ ‘Why, Elric, you would not refuse I can think of many subtle pranks that I could play on you...’ ‘Indeed? And the Black Swords?’ ‘Ah, yes ...’ ‘Balo, in your mirth and obsessions you have not considered everything thoroughly. You should have exerted more effort to .vanquish me before I came here.’ Now Elric’s eyes gleamed hot and he lifted the sword, crying: “Arioch! Master! I invoke thee, Lord of Chaos!”

Balo started. ‘Cease that, King Elric!’ “Arioch—here is a soul for you to claim!’ ‘Quiet, I say!’ “Arioch! Hear me!” Elric’s voice was loud and desperate.

Balo let his tiny playthings fall and rose hurriedly, skipping towards Elric.

‘Your invocation is unheeded!’ He laughed, reaching out for Elric. But Stormbringer moaned and shuddered in Elric’s hand and Balo withdrew his hand. His face became serious and frowning.

‘Arioch of the Seven Darks—your servant calls you!’ The walls of flame trembled and began to fade.

Balo’s eyes widened and jerked this way and that.

“Oh, Lord Arioch—come reclaim your straying Balo!”

‘You cannot!’ Balo scampered across the room where one section of the flame had faded entirely, revealing darkness beyond.

‘Sadly for you, little jester, he can...” The voice Was sardonic and yet beautiful. From the darkness stepped a tall figure, no longer the shapeless gibbering thing that had, until now, been Arioch’s favoured manifestation when visiting the Realm of Earth. Yet the great beauty of the newcomer, filled as it was with a kind of compassion mingled with pride, cruelty, and sadness, showed at once that he could not be human. He was clad in doublet of pulsing scarlet, hose of ever-changing hue, a long golden sword at his hips. His eyes were large, but slanted high, his hair was long and as golden as the sword, his lips were full and his chin pointed like his ears.

‘Arioch!’ Balo stumbled backwards as the Lord of Chaos advanced.

‘It was your mistake, Balo,’ Elric said from behind the jester. ‘Did you not realise only the Kings of Melnibone may invoke Arioch and bring him to the Realm of Earth? It has been their age-old privilege.’ ‘And much have they abused it,’ said Arioch, smiling faintly as Balo groveled. ‘However, this service you have done us, Elric, will make up for past misuses. I was not amused by the matter of the Mist Giant ...’ Even Elric was awed by the incredibly powerful presence of the Chaos Lord. He also felt much relieved, for he had not been sure that Arioch could be summoned in this way.

Now Arioch stretched an arm down towards Balo and lifted the jester by his collar so that he jerked and struggled in the air, his face writhing in fear and consternation.

Arioch took hold of Balo’s head and squeezed it.

Elric looked on in amazement as the head began to shrink. Arioch took Balo’s legs and bent them in, folding Balo up and kneading him in his slender, inhuman hands until he was a small, solid ball. Arioch then popped the ball into his mouth and swallowed it.

‘I have not eaten him, Elric,’ he said with another faint smile. ‘It is merely the easiest way of transporting him back to the Realms from which he came.

He has transgressed and will be punished. All this’he waved an arm to indicate the citadel—‘is unfortunate and contradicts the plans we of Chaos have for Earth—plans which will involve you, our servant, and make you mighty.’ Elric bowed to his master. ‘I am honoured, Lord Arioch, though I seek no favours.’ Arioch’s silvery voice lost some of its beauty and his face seemed to cloud for a second. ‘You are pledged to serve Chaos, Elric, as were your ancestors. You will serve Chaos! The time draws near when both Law and Chaos will battle for the Realm of Earth—and Chaos shall win! Earth will be incorporated into our Realm and you will join the hierarchy of Chaos, become immortal as we are!’ ‘Immortality offers little to me, my lord.’ ‘Ah, Elric, have the men of Melnibone become as the half-apes who now dominate Earth with their puny “civilisations”? Are you no better than these Young Kingdom upstarts? Think what we offer!’ ‘I shall, my lord, when” the time you mention comes.’ Elric’s head was still lowered.

‘You shall indeed,’ Arioch raised his arms. ‘Now to transport this toy of Balo’s to its proper Realm, and redress the trouble he has caused, lest some hint reaches our opponents before the proper time.’ Arioch’s voice swelled like the singing of a million brazen bells and Elric sheathed his sword and clapped his hands over his ears to stop the pain.

Then Elric felt his body seem to shred apart, swell and stretch until it became like smoke drifting on air. Then, faster, the smoke began to be drawn together, becoming denser and denser and he seemed to be shrinking now. All around him were rolling banks of colour, flashes and indescribable noises.

Then came a vast blackness and he closed his eyes against the images that seemed reflected in the blackness.

When he opened them he stood in the valley and the singing citadel was gone. Only Yishana and a few surprised-looking soldiers stood there. Yishana ran towards him.

‘Elric—was it you who saved us?’ ‘I must claim only part of the credit,’ he said.

‘Not all my soldiers are here,’ she said, inspecting the men. Where are the rest—and the villagers abducted earlier?’ ‘If Balo’s tastes are like his masters’, then I fear they now have the honour of being part of a demigod. The Lords of Chaos are not flesh-eaters, of course, being of the Higher Worlds, but there is something they savour in men which satisfies them...’ Yishana hugged her body as if in cold. ‘He was huge—I cannot believe that his citadel could contain his bulk!’ ‘The citadel was more than a dwelling-place, that was obvious. Somehow it changed size, shape-and other things I cannot describe. Arioch of Chaos transported it and Balo back to where they belong,’ ‘Arioch! But he is one of the Greatest Six! How did he come to Earth?’ ‘An old pact with my remote ancestors. By calling him they allow him to spend a short time in our realm, and he repays them with some favour. This was done.’ ‘Come, Elric,’ she took his arm. ‘Let’s away from the valley.’ Elric was weak and enfeebled by the efforts of summoning Arioch, and the experiences he had had before and since the episode. He could hardly walk; and soon it was Yishana who supported him as they made slow progress, the dazed warriors following in their wake, towards the nearest village, where they could obtain rest and horses to take them back to Dhakos.