To Rescue Tanelorn (3 page)

So, at last, we came to the great Main Gate of Necranal which swung open to admit us and we passed through into streets packed with jostling, cheering people who shouted so loudly I was forced, at times, to cover my ears for fear they would burst.

At length our little caravan arrived at the summit of the mountain and the Palace of Ten Thousand Windows.

Here, I was shown the apartments prepared for me, some twenty rooms, most of them luxuriously furnished, but a few austere, weapon-lined. I was left alone and slaves brought me refreshment.

I felt as if I had been asleep for a long time and had awakened invigorated. I paced the rooms, exploring them, taking more interest in the weapons than in the furnishings which would have delighted even the most jaded sybarite. I stepped out onto one of several covered balconies and surveyed the great city of Necranal as the sun set over it. The faraway sky was full of smoky colour, purples and oranges, yellows and blues, these colours reflected in the domes and steeples of Necranal so that the entire city seemed to take on a softer texture, like a pastel drawing. As night came, slaves entered with lamps and placed them about the rooms.

When they were gone, the king and Katorn, Captain of the Imperial Guard, came and joined me as I stood on the balcony.

“Forgive us,” said King Rigenos, “if we come immediately to the Matter of the Human Kingdoms.”

“Certainly,” I said. “I am ready.” I was in fact very curious to learn the position.

“As I told you in the tomb, the Eldren now dominate the entire Southern Continent which they call Mernadin. Five years ago they recaptured the only real outpost we had on Mernadin—their ancient seaport of Paphanaal. There was little fighting. I admit that we had grown complacent and when they suddenly swept out of the Mountains of Sorrow we were unprepared.”

“You were able to evacuate most of your colonies, I take it?” I put in.

“There was little evacuation necessary—Mernadin was virtually uninhabited since human beings would not live in that land where the Hounds of Evil once ruled—and rule now. They believe the continent to be cursed, inhabited by the spirits of Hell.”

“Then why did you drive the Eldren back to the mountains in the first place if you had no need of their territories?”

“Because while they had the land under their control they were a constant threat to Humanity.”

“I see. Continue.”

“That threat is once again imminent,” the king’s voice was thick and trembling. His eyes were full of fear and hatred. “We expect them, at any moment, to launch an attack upon the Two Continents—upon Zavara and Necralala.”

“Have you had any indication, as yet, that they plan invasion?” I asked. “And if so, how long we have to get ready ourselves?”

“They’ll attack!” Katorn’s bleak eyes came to life. The thin beard framing his pale face seemed to bristle.

“They’ll attack,” agreed King Rigenos. “They would have overrun us now if we did not constantly war against them. We have to keep them back—once a breach is made, they will engulf us. Humanity, though, is battle-weary. We needed one of two things—fresh warriors or a leader to give the warriors we have new hope. The former was impossible—all Mankind fights the Eldren menace. So I called you, Erekosë, and held you to your vow.”

“What vow?” I said.

“That if ever the Eldren dominated Mernadin again you would come to decide the struggle between them and Humanity.”

I sighed. As John Daker I saw a meaningless war between two ferocious, blindly hating factions both of whom seemed to be conducting racial
jehads,
but the danger was patent. Humanity had to be saved.

“The Eldren,” I continued. “What do they say?”

“Under torture they die, but they will not speak their true plans. They are cunning—talk of peace, of mutual help. You cannot trust an Eldren wolf—they are treacherous, immoral and evil. We shall not be safe until their whole race is destroyed utterly. You must lead us to victory, Erekosë.”

“I will lead you,” I said as Iolinda joined us.

So I talked with generals and admirals. We pored over maps and discussed tactics, logistics, available men, animals and ships, while the fleets massed and the Two Continents were scoured for warriors, from boys of fifteen to men of fifty, all were marshaled beneath the double banner of Humanity which bore the arms of Zavara and Necralala and the standards of their King, Rigenos, their War Champion Erekosë. We planned a great land-sea invasion of Mernadin’s chief harbour and the surrounding province—Paphanaal.

Once Paphanaal, province and city, was taken we should have a beachhead from which other attacks inland could be made. When not conferring with the generals, I practised weaponry, riding, until I was skilled in those arts. It was more a case of remembering old skills than learning new ones.

The night before we were due to leave, to sail down the River Droonaa to the port of Noonos and join the fleets, I walked with Iolinda, of whom I had seen much, her arm in mine, along the closed balconies of the Palace of Ten Thousand Windows.

With such speed had matters passed that I still retained my earlier insouciant demeanour. It also seemed natural that after we had conversed a little I should take her face between my hands and raise it up so that I could look down at its beauty. And also, naturally, we kissed.

Her breathing was less regular and she smiled with a mixture of pride and tenderness.

“When I return,” I spoke softly, “we shall be married.”

She nodded her head, drawing off her hand a wonderfully worked ring of gold, pearls and rose-coloured diamonds. This she placed on my little finger—“A token of my love,” she said. “To bring you luck in your battles, to remind you of me.”

I had no ring to give her. I said as much, feeling embarrassed, inadequate.

“Your word is enough,” she said. “Swear that you will return to me.”

“That I’ll swear,” I said feelingly. We looked around as guilty lovers do, for we had heard the approach of footsteps.

Into my apartments came slaves, preceded by King Rigenos. He was excited. The slaves were bearing pieces of black armour of marvelous workmanship.

“This,” said the king, “is the armour of Erekosë, broken from its tomb of rock for Erekosë to wear again.”

The amour was, unlike that worn by the Imperial Guard, smooth without embellishment. The shoulder pieces were grooved fanning high and away from the head to channel a blow of sword, axe or lance away from the wearer. The helmet, breastplates and the rest were all grooved in the same manner. The metal was light but very strong, like that of the sword, but the black lacquer shone. In its simplicity the armour was beautiful. The only ornament, a thick plume of scarlet horse-hair, sprang from the top of the helm and cascaded down the smooth sides. I touched the armour with the reverence one has for fine art—for fine art designed to protect one’s life.

“Thank you, King Rigenos,” I said. “I will wear it tomorrow when we set sail for Noonos.”

Overlaying my excitement for the coming war was my love for Iolinda which seemed to be a calmer, purer love, so much higher than carnal love that it was a thing apart. Perhaps this was the chivalrous love which the Peers of Christendom had held above all other?

That night, I lay at peace, thinking of Iolinda, and in the morning slaves brought my armour to me and helped me don it. It fitted perfectly, comfortably and was no weight at all. With my poisonous sword in its protecting scabbard, I strode to the Great Hall where the Peers of Humanity had been summoned.

There, in the Great Hall hung with hundreds of bright banners which descended from the high, domed roof, the Marshals, the Captains and the Knights were gathered in splendid array.

A little group of marshals kneeled before me as I kneeled before the king. Behind them were a hundred captains, behind them five thousand knights, all kneeling. And surrounding us, along the walls, were the old nobles, the Ladies of the Court, Men-at-arms at attention, slaves and squires. I, Erekosë, Champion of Humanity, was to be their saviour. They knew it.

In my confidence, I knew it, also.

The king spoke:

“Erekosë the Champion, Marshals, Captains and Knights of Humanity—we go to wage war against unhuman evil, to save our fair continents from the Eldren menace. This expedition will be decisive. With Erekosë to lead us we shall win the port and province of Paphanaal, but that will be the first stage in our campaigns.”

He paused and then spoke again into the silence:

“More battles must follow fast upon the first so that the hated Hounds of Evil will, once and for all, be destroyed, men and women—even children must perish. We drove them to their holes in the Mountains of Sorrow once, but this time we must not let their race survive. Let only their memory remain to remind us of what evil is!”

“We will destroy the Eldren!” we roared, intoxicated by the tense atmosphere of the Great Hall.

“Swear it!” shouted the king and the hatred boiled from his eyes, seared from his voice.

“We so swear! We will destroy the Eldren!”

“Go now, Paladins of Mankind—go—
destroy the Eldren filth!
”

We rose to our feet, turned in precision, and marched from the Great Hall into a day noisy with the swelling roars of the people.

Down the winding streets of Necranal we marched, myself in the lead, my sword raised as if already victorious, down towards the waiting ships which were ready on the river.

Oars were slipped through the ports and dipped into the placid river waters, strong men, three to a sweep, sat upon the rowing benches. Fifty ships stretched along the river banks, bearing the standards of fifty proud Paladins.

The people of Necranal lined the banks, cheering, cheering so that we became used to their voices, as men become used to the sounds of the sea, scarcely hearing them. Richly decorated cabins were built on the decks and the ships of the Paladins had several masts bearing furled sails of painted canvas.

I went aboard the king’s great man-o’-war, a ship with fifty pairs of oars and eight tall masts. Alone for a while in the sumptuous cabin assigned me I parted from Iolinda with a tender kiss.

She went ashore. The king and the captain, his dark eyes veiled, joined me. Katorn seemed to dislike me. For my part I was not attracted to his sullen personality, but he was a good soldier and I allowed no emotion to guide my decisions in the Matter of the Human Kingdoms.

We hauled in our anchors and the drums pounded out the slow rowing rhythm. We beat down the Droonaa River, with the current, moving fast towards Noonos of the Jeweled Towers and the fleets.

“Goodbye, Iolinda,” I said softly, waving from the stern of the swaying vessel, and then we had rounded a bend in the river and saw only the rearing city of Necranal above and behind us.

Goodbye, Iolinda.

I was sweating in my war gear for the day was oppressed by a great flaming sun, blazing in a cloudless sky.

The drums beat on. The rowers pulled. Speedily we sailed to Noonos and the Fleets of Humanity.