The Dragon in the Sword (41 page)

Morandi Pag made a grunting noise at the back of his throat. He put his muzzle into the fireplace and took a deep breath of the fumes, then he sat back in his armchair. “If certain schemes are set at certain times, if certain functions are required to ensure the survival of the multiverse, so that neither Law nor Chaos shall ever gain full command of it, then perhaps certain creatures must be matched to certain powerful artifacts. After all, every race has legends concerning such things. These affinities are part of the pattern. And the maintenance of the pattern, of Order, is of paramount importance.” He cleared his great throat. “I must look into this further. It will be an interesting way of passing my final years.”

The Lady Phalizaarn said gently, “The time for leaving has come, Prince Morandi Pag. There is one last great action to be taken, then this particular stage in the eternal game is completed. We must go to rejoin the rest of our people.”

Morandi Pag inclined his head. “The ships we hid for you are ready. They await you in our harbour.”

Von Bek, Alisaard and I were the last to go aboard the slender Eldren vessels. We remained, almost reluctantly, making our final farewells to the Ursine Princes. Not one of us said anything of meeting again. We knew it was never likely to be. And so it was with a special regret that we parted.

We three stood on the high aft deck of the final ship to sail out of the harbour, leaving the massive cliffs of Adelstane behind us, sailing beyond the whirlpool crags where Morandi Pag had lived for so long.

“Goodbye!” I cried as I waved to the last of that noble race. “Goodbye, dear friends!”

And I heard Morandi Pag call to me. “Goodbye, John Daker. May your rest be all you desire.”

We sailed for a day until we came at length to a place where great beams of light pierced the clouds and stroked the rolling sea: rainbow light forming a circle of great pillars, a kind of temple. We had come again to the Pillars of Paradise.

The triangular sails of the Eldren vessels filled with wind as, one by one, the clever sailors drove their ships between the columns. One by one they vanished until we were the last ship remaining.

Then Alisaard took the helm. She flung back her head and shouted her song. She was full of joy.

It seemed again to me that Ermizhad stood there, as she had stood beside me in all our adventurings so long ago. But the man whom this woman loved was not Erekosë, the Eternal Champion. It was Count Ulric von Bek, nobleman of Saxony, exile from the Nazi obscenity, and that he returned her love was clear. I no longer knew jealousy. That had been an aberration brought about by Chaos. But I knew a deep loneliness, a sadness which could never, no matter what befell me, be dismissed. Oh, Ermizhad, I mourned for you then as the Pillars of Paradise drew us inwards and upwards and out into the glorious, sun-filled seas of Gheestenheem.

We sailed now, our convoy of ships, towards Barobanay, the old capital of the Ghost Women.

The women who crowded the decks and worked the ships were still dressed in their delicate armour of engraved ivory, though they no longer wore the helmets which had once disguised and protected them by means of instilling fear in potential enemies. When we sailed at last into the burned and wasted harbour and looked upon the black ruins of that town which had once been so lovely, so secure and comfortable and civilised, many of those women wept.

Yet the Lady Phalizaarn stood upon the pitted stones of the quay and she addressed the Eldren women. “This is a memory now. It is a memory we must always keep. But we should not grieve, for soon if the promise of our legends is true, we shall at last be going to our true home, to the land of our menfolk. And the Eldren will become strong again, in a world which is theirs, in a world which cannot be threatened by savage barbarians of any ilk. We begin a new story for our race. A glorious story. Soon, just as we are united with our men, the she-dragon will be freed and come together with her male. Two strong limbs of the same body, equally powerful, equally tender, equally able to build a world even lovelier than the one we knew here. John Daker, show us the Dragon Sword. Show us our hope, our fulfillment, our resolution!” At her orders I pushed back my cloak. There on my hip was the sheathed Dragon Sword, where it had been scabbarded since the fight outside Adelstane. I unhooked the scabbard from my belt and held the Dragon Sword up for all to see, but I would not draw it. In my debates with the Lady Phalizaarn we had agreed that I should draw the blade again only once. And then, I swore, I should never draw it again.

If I could, I would have handed it over to the Announcer Elect and let her do what was needed. But it was my fate to be the only one who could handle the poisonous metal of that strange sword.

The Eldren women were disembarking, streaming into the broken buildings, the ashes, the fire-darkened timbers, of Barobanay.

“Go!” cried Lady Phalizaarn. “Bring us that which we have kept throughout our long exile. Bring us the Iron Round.”

Von Bek and Alisaard came to stand beside me on the quay. We had already discussed what had to be done. Morandi Pag had offered to try to help von Bek return to his own world, but he had elected to stay with Alisaard, just as I had once been the only human to remain with the Eldren, with my Ermizhad. They linked arms with me, offering me comfort, aiding me in my resolution, for I had made a pact with myself, with John Daker, and I was determined not to break it.

Soon the Ghost Women, their ivory smeared with black dust, came staggering from out of the ruins. They had with them a large oak chest, borne on poles slipped through brass loops set into brass bands binding the wood. It was an ancient chest, plainly, and spoke of a different age altogether. It was like nothing else the Eldren owned.

To one side of me the sunshine continued to glint on the blue ocean; to the other the breeze stirred the smoky ashes of the razed town. On the quay itself, and on their slender ships, the Eldren women gave me their full attention as the oak chest was opened and out of it was taken the thing they called the Iron Round.

It was a kind of anvil. It was almost as if a section had been cut from a tree trunk and placed upon a pedestal, then the whole turned into heavy, pitted iron. It was like a small table, yet I could see from its surface that generations of smiths had worked their metal upon it.

Into the base of the Iron Round were carved runes and these runes resembled many of those I had seen upon the blade of the Dragon Sword.

They brought the anvil and they placed it at my feet.

Each of those faces held expectation and hope. This was what they had lived for all those generations, breeding as best they could from the poor stock provided them, resorting to an artificial way of life which they found distasteful, yet maintaining their dream that one day the cosmic mistake which had cost them their menfolk and their future would be corrected. It was for this day, too, that I had striven. All else had been secondary. Out of love for the race which had adopted me, the woman I had loved and who had loved me with such intensity and depth, I had sought out the Dragon Sword.

“Unsheath it, Champion,” cried Lady Phalizaarn. “Unsheath your sword so that we may all look upon it for the last time. Unsheath that power which was created to be destroyed, which was forged for Chaos to serve Law, which was made to resist the Balance and to carry out its destiny. Unsheath your powerful blade. Let this be the last act of that hero called the Eternal Champion. In redeeming us, let him also be redeemed. Unsheath the Dragon Sword!”

And I took the scabbard in my left hand. And I took the hilt of the sword in my right. And slowly I slid the sheath away so that black radiance began to pour out of the green-black metal carved with so many runes, as if the sword’s entire story was written there.

In the bright air of the Gheestenheem, before the assembled women of the Eldren, I held the blade up high. I let the scabbard fall. I took the Dragon Sword in my two hands. I raised it so that all might look upon it, upon the dark, living metal, upon the little yellow, flickering flame within.

And the Dragon Sword began to sing. It was a wild, sweet song. It was a song so ancient it spoke of an existence beyond Time, beyond all the concerns of mortals and of gods. It spoke of love and hate and murder, of treachery and desire. It spoke of Chaos and of Law and of the tranquility of perfect balance. It spoke of the future, the past and the present. And it spoke of all the myriad millions of worlds of the multiverse, all the worlds it had known, all the worlds which remained to be known.

And then, to my astonishment, the Eldren women also gave voice. They sang in perfect harmony with the blade. And I found that I, too, was singing, though I knew nothing of the words which left my lips. I had never believed myself capable of such wonderful song.

The chorus built and built. The Dragon Sword throbbed with an ecstasy of its own, an ecstasy reflected in the faces of all who witnessed this ceremony.

I lifted the blade above my head. I cried out, yet I did not know what it was I said. I cried out, and my voice held all my own dreams, all my longings, all the hopes and fears of an entire people.

I was trembling with exquisite delight, with awe and with something akin to fear, as I began to bring the blade down, in one clean, sweeping motion, upon the Iron Round.

The anvil which had been all that these women had possessed to remind them of their destiny now seemed to glow with the same strange light given off by the Dragon Sword.

The two parts met. There was a huge sound. A sound like the breaking of every planet, every cosmic barrier, every sun in the entire multiverse. A monstrous sound, yet a beautiful sound. It was the sound of fulfilled destiny.

And now the sword, which had been heavy for so long, was light in my hands. And I saw that the blade was broken, clean in two, that for a moment one part of it was embedded in the Iron Round, while the other remained in my grip. And I shuddered at the incredible sensation of delight which permeated my entire body. And I gasped and I continued to sing my song, the song which the women sang, the song of the Eldren, the song of the Dragon Sword and the Iron Round.

And as we sang, something like flame erupted from the anvil, something which had been released from the sword and yet which, for a short while, had also inhabited the round. It curled and it writhed and it, too, was singing. And the singing became a roar, echoed in the throats of all those women, and the flame grew fiercer and stronger and it began to take shapes to itself, and colours to itself, and it seemed to me, as I fell away from its enormous might, that this was altogether a more powerful force than any I had witnessed before. For this was the force of human desire, of human will, of human ideals. It grew and grew. The shard of the sword fell from my hand. I was upon my knees, looking up as the presence took form, roaring still, curling and writhing still, blotting out the sun.

It was a huge beast. A dragon whose scales rippled in the glow of the sun. A dragon whose crest burned with the richest colours of the rainbow. A dragon whose red nostrils flared and whose white teeth clashed, whose coils rose skyward with exquisite grace, whose wings spread wider and wider, beating strongly as the beast ascended into the clear, blue sky.

Yet still the song went on. Still the dragon and the women and I all sang. Still the anvil sang, though the sword’s voice grew fainter now. Up, up, it beat, that wonderful creature; up until it turned, weaving and diving, skimming the waters, spearing up again into the sunlight, rejoicing in its strength, in its freedom, in its pure animation.

Then the dragon roared. And her breath was warm upon our faces, bringing us, too, fresh life. She opened her vast mouth and she clashed her teeth in an orgy of release. She danced for us. She sang for us. She displayed her power for us. And we knew a complete rapport with her. I had known this only once before and the memory of that time was gone from me. I wept with the pleasure of it.

Then the she-dragon was turning. Her multicoloured wings, like the wings of some enormous insect, began to beat with a different purpose.

She turned her long, saurian head and she stared at us from out of wise, tender eyes, and again the breath steamed suddenly from her nostrils, and she was calling to us, calling us to follow.

Von Bek took my hand. “Come with us, Herr Daker. Come with us through the Dragon Gate. We shall know such happiness there!” And Alisaard clutched my arm. She said: “You will be honoured by all the Eldren now. For ever.”

But I said sadly that it was not to be. “I know now that I must find the Dark Ship again. That is my duty and my destiny.”

“You said you had no further desire to be a hero.” Von Bek was surprised.

“That is true. And I will be a hero, will I not, in the Eldren world? My only hope to rid myself of this burden is to remain here. I know that.”

All the women were now aboard their vessels. Many were already putting out to sea, over the white-tipped waves, in the wake of the she-dragon. They waved to me as they left. And still they sang.

“Go,” I told my friends. “Go and be happy. That will console me for any loss, I promise you.”

And thus we parted. Von Bek and Alisaard were the last to go aboard the final ship which left the harbour. I watched as the wind filled their triangular sail, as the slender prow made a cleft in the gentle waters.

The great she-dragon, which had been released at last, according to legend, described a complete circle in the sky overhead, seemingly for the sheer joy of flying.

But where she had gone the circle remained. A blue and red disc which gradually widened until it touched the waters below. The colours became more complex. Thousands of rich, dark shades shimmered above the water. And through this circle now passed the great she-dragon, vanishing almost at once. Then came the ships of the Eldren. And they, too, were swallowed up. They had rejoined their kind. The dragons and their mortal kin were reunited at last!

The circle faded.

The circle vanished.

I was alone in a deserted world.