The Complete Dilvish, The Damned Read online

Dilvish turned him again to the door of the tower and entered there, Korel at his side.

  The broken bellpull lay at his feet. It fell to dust when he touched it with his toe.

  "It is said," he told Korel, "that the bellpull did break in the hands of the last to ring it, half an age ago."

  He raised his eye, and there was only darkness above him.

  "The legions of Shoredan did set forth to assault the Citadel of Rahoring," said the priest, as though reading it from some old parchment, "and word of their movement came soon to the King of the World. Then did he lay upon three bells cast in Shoredan a weird. When these bells were rung, a great fog came over the land and engulfed the columns of marchers and those on horseback. The fog did disperse upon the second ringing of the bells, and the land was found to be empty of the troop. It was later written by Merde, Red Wizard of the South, that somewhere still do these marchers and horsemen move, through regions of eternal fog. 'If these bells be rung again by a hand of that House which dispatched the layer of the weird, then will these legions come forth from a mist to serve that one for a time in battle. But when they have served, they will vanish again into the places of gloom, where they will continue their march upon a Rahoringhast which no longer exists. How they may be freed to rest, this thing is not known. One mightier than I has tried and failed.'"

  Dilvish bowed his head a moment, then he felt the walls. They were not like the outer walls. They were cast of blocks of that same material, and between those blocks were scant crevices wherein his fingers found purchase.

  He raised himself above the floor and commenced to climb, the soft green boots somehow finding toeholds wherever they struck.

  The air was hot and stale, and showers of dust descended upon him each time he raised an arm above his head.

  He pulled himself upward, until he counted a hundred such movements and the nails of his hands were broken. Then he clung to the wall like a lizard, resting, and felt the pains of his last encounter burning like suns within him.

  He breathed the fetid air and his head swam. He thought of the Portaroy he had once delivered, long ago, the city of friends, the place where he had once been feted, the land whose need for him had been strong enough to free him from the Houses of Pain and break the grip of stone upon his body; and he thought of that Portaroy in the hands of the Colonel of the West, and he thought of Dilfar now resisting that Lylish who might sweep the bastions of the East before him.

  He climbed once again.

  His head touched the metal lip of a bell.

  He climbed around it, bracing himself on the crossbars that now occurred.

  There were three bells suspended from a single axle.

  He set his back against the wall and clung to the crossbars, placing his feet upon the middle bell.

  He pushed, straightening his legs.

  The axle protested, creaking and grinding within its sockets.

  But the bell moved, slowly. It did not return, however, but stayed in the position into which it had been pushed.

  Cursing, he worked his way through the crossbars and over to the opposite side of the belfry.

  He pushed it back and it stuck on the other side. All the bells moved with the axle, though.

  Nine times more did he cross over in darkness to push at the bells.

  Then they moved more easily.

  Slowly they fell back as he released the pressure of his legs. He pushed them out again and they returned again. He pushed them again, and again.

  A click came from one of the bells as the clapper struck. Then another. Finally one of them rang.

  He kicked out harder and harder, and then did the bells swing free and fill the tower about him with a pealing that vibrated the roots of his teeth and filled his ears with pain. A storm of dust came down over him and his eyes were full of tears. He coughed and closed them. He let the bells grow still.

  Across some mighty distance he thought he heard the faint winding of a horn.

  He began the downward climb.

  "Lord Dilvish," said Korel, when he had reached the floor, "I have heard the blowing of horns."

  "Yes," said Dilvish.

  "I have a flask of wine with me. Drink."

  Dilvish rinsed his mouth and spat, then drank three mighty swallows.

  "Thank you, priest. Let us be gone from here now."

  They crossed through the hall once more and descended the inner stairs. The smaller hall was now unlighted and lay in ruin. They made their way out, Dilvish leaving no tracks to show where he had gone; and halfway down the stairs the darkness departed from them.

  Through the bleak day that now clung to the land, Dilvish looked back along the Way of the Armies. A mighty fog filled the air far beyond the broken gates, and from within that fog there came again the notes of the horn and the sounds of the movements of troops. Almost, Dilvish could see the outlines of the columns of marchers and riders, moving, moving, but not advancing.

  "My troops await me," said Dilvish upon the stair. "Thank you, Korel, for accompanying me."

  "Thank you, Lord Dilvish. I came to this place to dwell upon the ways of evil. You have shown me much that I may meditate upon."

  They descended the final stairs. Dilvish brushed dust from his garments and mounted Black.

  "One thing more, Korel, priest of Babrigore," he said. "If you ever meet with your patron, who should provide you much more evil to meditate upon than you have seen here, tell him that, when all the battles have been fought, his statue will come to kill him."

  The mole danced as Korel blinked up at him.

  "Remember," he replied, "that once he wore a mantle of light."

  Dilvish laughed, and the eyes of his mount glowed red through the gloom.

  "There!" he said, gesturing. "There is your sign of his goodness and light!"

  Nine black doves circled in the heavens.

  Korel bowed his head and did not answer.

  "I go now to lead my legions."

  Black reared on steel hooves and laughed along with his rider.

  Then they were gone, up the Way of the Armies, leaving the Citadel of Rahoring and the priest of Babrigore behind them in the gloom.

  A KNIGHT FOR MERYTHA

  As he rode through the pass, he heard a woman scream.

  The scream echoed about him and died. Then there was only the sound of the steel hooves of his mount upon the trail.

  He stopped and stared through the gathering dusk.

  "Black, whence came that cry?" he asked.

  "I know not the direction," replied the steel horse on whose back he rode. "In these mountains sounds seem to come from everywhere."

  Dilvish turned on his saddle and stared back along the trail he had followed.

  Far below him on the plain, the doomed army had made its camp. Dilvish, who slept but little, had ridden ahead to scout out the way into the mountains. When last he had passed here, on the way to Rahoringhast, it had been at night and he had seen little of the trail.

  Black's eyes glowed faintly.

  "The darkness increases," he said, "and 'tis profitless to proceed. You cannot see much of the way beyond this point. Perhaps 'twere better you returned now to the camp, to hear your ancient kinsmen's tales of younger days in the earth."

  "Very well…" said Dilvish, and as he spoke these words the cry came once more.

  "That way!" he said, gesturing to his left. "The cry came from up ahead, off the trail!"

  "Yes," said Black, "we are near enough to the borders of Rahoringhast so that a situation such as this is even more suspect than it normally would be. I counsel you not to heed that cry."

  "A woman screaming in the wilderness and night— and I not responding? Come now, Black! It violates the law of my kind. Onward!"

  Black made a sound like the hunting cry of a great bird and leapt forward. Beyond the pass he turned off the trail and ascended a steep slope.

  High above there was a flicker of light.

  "It is a castle," said Blac
k, "and a woman stands within the battlement, all in white."

  Dilvish stared ahead.

  The clouds parted and the moon dropped light upon the edifice.

  Big, and in places lapsing into ruin, it seemed almost a part of the mountainside. Dark, save for a faint illumination coming through the opened gate from the courtyard within. Old…

  They came to the walls of the castle and Dilvish called out:

  "Lady! Was it you who screamed?"

  She looked downward.

  "Yes!" she said. "Oh yes, good traveler! Twas I."

  "What troubles you, madam?"

  "I called out because I heard you passing. There is a dragon in the courtyard—and I fear for my life."

  "Did you say 'dragon'?"

  "Yes, good sir. He came down out of the sky four days ago and has been making his new home here. I am a prisoner because of this. I cannot pass that way…"

  "I will see what can be done about it," he said.

  Dilvish drew his invisible blade.

  "Oh, good sir…"

  "Through the gate, Black!"

  "I like it not," muttered Black as they clattered into the courtyard.

  Dilvish looked about him.

  A torch blazed at one end of the yard. Shadows danced everywhere. Otherwise there was nothing.

  "I see no dragon," said Black.

  "And I smell no reptilian musk."

  "Here, dragon!" said Black. "Here, dragon! Come on, dragon!"

  They circled the courtyard, peering through the archways.

  "No dragon," Black observed.

  "No."

  "Pity. You must forgo the pleasure."

  As they passed a final archway, the woman called out from within.

  "It appears to have departed, good sir."

  He sheathed the blade of Selar and dismounted. Black became a steel statue at his back as he strode through the archway. The woman stood before him and he smiled and bowed to her.

  "Your dragon appears to have flown," he observed.

  Then he stared at her.

  Her hair was black and unbraided, failing far below her shoulders. She was tall, and her eyes were the color of wood smoke. Rubies danced upon the lobes of her ears, and her chin was tiny and she held it high. Her neck was the color of cream, and Dilvish ran his eyes along it, down to the slopes where her breasts fitted into the tight bodice of her dress.

  "So it would seem," she said. "My name is Merytha."

  "… And mine is Dilvish."

  "You are a brave man, Dilvish—to rush empty-handed after a dragon."

  "Perhaps," he said. "Since the dragon is now departed…"

  "It will be back for me, I fear," she said, "for I am the last one within these walls."

  "Alone here? What is your situation?"

  "My kinsmen will return tomorrow. They have been on a far journey. Pray, tend your horse and come dine with me, for I am lonesome and afraid." She licked her lips into a smile, and Dilvish said, "Very well," and he returned to the courtyard.

  He placed his hand on Black's neck and felt it move.

  "Black, all is not right in this place," he stated, "and I would learn more of it. I go to dine with the lady."

  "Take care," whispered Black, "of what you eat and drink. I do not like this place."

  "Good Black," said Dilvish, and he returned to Merytha within the archway.

  She had obtained a lighted torch from somewhere, which she handed to him.

  "My chambers are at the head of the stairs," she said.

  He followed her upward through the gloom. Cobwebs hung in the corners and there was dust upon a wide tapestry that depicted a vast battle. He thought he heard the scurry of rats within the rushes, and a faint odor of dry rot came to his nostrils.

  They reached a landing and she pushed wide the door that was before them.

  The room was lighted by many tapers. It was clean and warm, and an aroma of sandlewood hung in the air. There were dark animal pelts upon the floor, and a bright tapestry hung on the far wall. Two windowslits let in the night breeze and glimpses of the stars, and there was a narrow doorway that led out to the battlement from which she had hailed him.

  Dilvish moved into the room, and as he did so he saw that beyond the corner to his left there was a recessed fireplace, two logs smouldering within it. Laid out on the table before the hearth was a meal. Vegetables still steamed beside the the beef, and the bread looked soft and fresh. There was a clear decanter of red wine. In the corner of the room, he saw a massive, canopied bed, great ropes of golden braid about its posts, orange silk stretched tight upon it where the coverlet was turned back, and a row of orange pillows at its head.

  "Sit down and refresh yourself, Dilvish," said Merytha.

  "Will you not eat with me?"

  "I have already dined."

  Dilvish tasted a small piece of beef. There was no taint to it. He sipped the wine. It was strong and dry.

  "Very good," he said. "How did this meal come to be prepared, and still warm?"

  She smiled. "I did it, perhaps in anticipation. Will you not remove your sword belt at my table?"

  "Yes," he replied. "Excuse me."

  And he unbuckled it and placed it beside him.

  "You carry no blade in your scabbard. Why is that?"

  "Mine was broken in battle."

  "You still must have won the engagement, else you would not be here."

  "I won," said Dilvish.

  "I take you for a doughty warrior, sir."

  He smiled.

  "The lady will turn my head with such talk."

  She laughed.

  "May I play music for you?"

  "That would be pleasant."

  She fetched then a stringed instrument unlike any he had ever seen. She began to play it and to sing:

  "The wind doth blow this night, my love,

  And a few small drops of rain;

  I prayed that thou wouldst come to me,

  To ease me of my pain.

  Now I wish the wind may never cease,

  Nor the flashes in the flood,

  That thou has come across the eve

  In earthly flesh and blood.

  I prithee stay, of goodly night,

  Green boots upon thy feet,

  O knight who does not wear a sword,

  To close my eyes with kisses sweet.

  I'll wish the wind may never cease,

  Nor flashes in the flood,

  That thou mightst stay across the eve,

  In earthly flesh and blood.

  I prayed that thou wouldst come to me

  As the light of day did wane,

  To hold me as the night wind blew,

  And a few small drops of rain."

  Dilvish ate and drank his wine, watching her as she played. Her fingers barely touched upon the strings and her voice was soft and clear.

  "Lovely," he said.

  "Thank you, Dilvish," and she sang him another tune.

  He finished his meal and sipped his wine until there was no more waiting within the decanter.

  She stopped singing and put aside the instrument.

  "I am afraid to stay here alone," she said, "until my kinsmen return. Will you remain with me this night?"

  "There is only one answer that I am capable of giving."

  She stood then and crossed to his side, touching his cheek with her fingertips. He smiled and touched her chin.

  "You are partly of the Elvish kind," she said.

  "Yes, I am."

  "Dilvish, Dilvish, Dilvish…" she said. "The name sounds familiar… I know! You are named after the hero of The Ballad of Portaroy."

  "Yes."

  "A goodly tune. Perhaps I'll sing it for you," she said. "Later."

  "No," said Dilvish, "it is not one of my favorites."

  Then he drew her face to his and kissed her lips.

  "The fire burns low."

  "Yes," he said.

  "The room will grow cold."

  "'Ti
s true."

  "Then remove thy green boots, for they are pleasing to the eye but would be awkward in bed."

  Dilvish removed his boots, stood, and took her in his arms.

  "How came you by these cuts on your cheek?"

  "My enemy smote me about the head."

  "It would appear he had claws."

  "He did."

  "An animal?"

  "No."

  "I will kiss them," she said, "to draw the sting."

  Her lips lingered upon his cheek. He crushed her to him then, and she sighed.

  "You are strong…" she said, and the fire burned low. After a time, it went out.

  How long he had slept, he did not know.

  There was a sound of splintering wood, and a voice cried out in the night.

  He shook his head and stared into her opened eyes.

  A strange warmth lay upon his throat. He touched it and his hand became moist.

  He shook his head again.

  "Please do not be angry," she said. "Remember that I fed you, that I have given you pleasure…"

  "Vampire…" he whispered.

  "I would not take your life's blood, Dilvish. Just a drink, just a drink was all I wanted."

  There came another blow on the door, as of a battering ram.

  He sat up slowly and held his head in his hands.

  "Quite a sip," he said. "I think someone's at the door…"

  "It is my husband," she replied, "Lord Morin."

  "Oh? I don't believe we've been introduced…"

  "I thought he would sleep this night, as he has these many nights past. He fed well a week ago and was sated. But he is like the tiger of the seas. Your blood summoned him."

  "I find my position somewhat awkward, Merytha," Dilvish observed, "being guest to a vampire lord I've cuckolded. I don't quite know what one says on these occasions."

  "There is nothing to say," she replied. "I hate him. He made me what I am. The only thing I regret is that he was awakened. He means to kill you."

  Dilvish rubbed his eyes and reached for his boots.

  "What will you do, Dilvish?"

  "Apologize, and defend myself."

  Three more blows loosened the door upon its hinges.

  "Let me in, Merytha!" came a deep voice from without.